solace

with the decision made, the next day drew to it's cinematic beginning... 
birds chirped, clouds read messages, favorite songs played over the radio and he knew that it was a good day to quit... 

cycling between bus and rickshaw stands, it seemed to him that the regular oddities; had in them the weird charm of monotony... much like poetry, more importantly, childhood poetry... simple acts or tales woven in rhythmic patterns... he allowed himself a moment to reflect on his own intellectual superiority and smiled... the second standard poetry book resumed its narration and together they hopped off the bus... 

by midday, despite a few nervous ticks he had managed to finish three quarters of an overdue artwork... 'it's amazing how much more you can get from your day...' more work, better ideas and bright splashes of colours mixed together and soon the paying part of his job was over... leisurely he strolled by the window and rolled; below, the last and weakest batsman fucked up bringing the afternoon game of gully cricket to its lethargic end...

the drugs kicked in as birds moved in on the abandoned pitch bellow, as if reclaiming their territory... he looked on amused... it had been a childhood dream to fly... up above a crow managed to pick up on a current and started sailing carefree... 'bastard!' 

gradually the sunset, spraying across the skyline... he stood there and let the image register... mentally he was already stroking paint onto canvas... once the frame and its many details merged with the crease of his brain, he turned and began working away at the image... 

after several sketches a picture soon started taking shape... the otherwise untidy floor, welcomed the steady fragments of charcoal and reflecting the tenants creative bent, grew into a more graphic topography... 'hffh!' and just like that he was done with it... he lit a cigarette and walked away...

on coming back he gaped at the picture.. he found a notepad and stuck a piece of paper onto one edge of the canvas frame, 'monochrome beauty'... the frame itself held dark rough lines that became a gigantic skyline... at the geometric center of the it he drew the neat outline of a circle, then turned and moved a few paces forward... he looked around one more time and then angled himself before the painting... he smiled and placed the nozzle between his eyes...
bang!

slightly off the calculated target but a good effort nonetheless... red mixtures of blood and brain were sprayed over the canvas and on the wall behind the easel... steadily they trickled down as his body did its last spasm and became motionless forever...