Mr. Natty

Natty means smart and fashionable. It could also mean dreadlocks. I somehow thought of this story when I saw that word. The story is nowhere close to being coherent but somehow I could draw a picture book out of this, haha. (If I had the amazing ability to draw, that is)


Meet Mr. Natty, who is known to nobody except kids below three.
I reckon he is slightly above thirty.
Boy, he is as quirky as he is legendary.
Yellow dreads, viridian scales with something feathery.
Neon-coloured furry weeds, rotating eyeballs with orange edges of three.

Meet Mr. Natty, and join him when the stars are shiny.
Listen to his endless collection of fascinating stories.
Ride on crushing waves of the seven seas;
Dance on fluttering petals of strawberries;
Soar across his whimsical clouds of fancy.

Meet Mr. Natty, a face whom the adults do not see.
I reckon he is as shy as he is ordinary.
The kids would protest unanimously, that the brilliant Mr. Natty is dreamy.
In a world where adults were not to be, who are we to draw its boundaries?
Mr. Natty is natty, just the very way he should forever be.

 

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lxxxviii

“All that glitters is not gold.”

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

– JRR Tolkien

When I was much younger, I came across this poem and I loved the first two lines. In time, one will realise that the things worth keeping in life are often mundane, trivial and possibly inconspicuous. These things are sometimes out of plain sight, but they stay around for a very long time, until the day you come to keep them inside your heart.

All that is gold does not glitter. All that glitters is not gold.

It was early February. I was sitting on the huge stone steps to the beach and there was a distant solitary figure and her pet. Nobody knew why she was there, but she stood pensively with her pet for a relatively long time. When she started walking again, she turned around and glanced at the other lone figure (me). This wandering stranger is now on the main header image of the site. I may or may not see her again this lifetime, but this picture forms one of the mundane memories I would dearly treasure.

I believe in fate, or the similar likes of it. I believe that repeated coincidences are meant to be – this post, for example. The last post I had uploaded onto my Instagram was the same photograph; I used the same Tolkien quote as the caption; I saw that the Daily Prompt was Glitter ; I started this site on this very day.

It probably means something.
It is probably meant to be, that I start writing on this platform today.