There it is again – like a restless beehive in a scorching afternoon. Buzzing in the sweet thickness trapped behind countless tiny hexagonal bars. When did I get that eye for detail, you ask. I smile, remembering a time when you said I was too high level to even see the details. I lean back on the grey seat and notice that curious smile you return when I sigh.
Don’t ask when I learnt that.
It’s buzzing like some whole animal, almost like a slightly insane baby wolf, don’t you think?
Yeah, if you say so.
So detached, yet so involved. You were never the one to have a detailed, dreamy conversation about the “inane” things I find. And I have no memories of showing you anything I write. But isn’t it strange how you make the most subtle references to things I’ve written about? Things you say sometime with the slightest smile in your eyes? Yes, it does buzz endlessly. Like the bees are looking for a place to rest and can’t find any because the hive is too small.
Quite like life.
And when did you start making weird references like me?
Oh, I said that just to make you happy.
How can I not be happy? I have this, and I have that. And I also have everything else. Quite like the bees – when they pointlessly swarm around the hive, it’s strange how hundreds of them can live so close, yet so apart. Would the rest of them notice if one went missing? Like the one I’m about to swat? Like that one wandering away from the rest?
You can see that bee that’s wandered away?
Would I say something like that if I can’t see it?
I see a lot of things and choose not see the rest. It’s good to know one is in control of one’s world. But a buzzing beehive cannot control of itself – the bees make the hive and decide when it moves and when it stops. When it lives and when it’s killed.
Yes, I see you, I see me, I see the hive…what else is there?
Alright, how far can you see?
Only till the end of this road, my friend.