The clock struck 3 and inside a bookshop in Maradana, Codwin made a
mental summary of himself.....Codwin, age 29, failed artist,
indifferent poet and now a bookshop assistant at Premasiri Bookshop in
Maradana. The world seemed darker than it did a few years ago and he
knew that it would become worse when he reached his thirties. He looked
through the glass window at the traffic below....it seemed to move
slower everyday....so much like his
life...........already he felt weary of his journey home.....the traffic
before the kelani bridge would take one and a half hours......why on
earth did they build a highway without solving this problem
first........but then he gave up this line of thought......these were
nuts beyond his ability to crack.....surrounded by books that's what he
must think about.....most of them horrid and unsaleable.....how on earth
did they make a profit selling this junk. He knew Mr. Premasiri knew
nothing....nothing at all about books.....the novel's in the shelf's
that he had read secretly were all trash.....but still Mr. Premasiri was
a millionaire.....the wind blew in a different way nowadays.......and
the likes of him with his half baked poems.....and knowledge of things
unimportant wasn't going anywhere........but even in this trash there
were gems that had been bought accidently.... take W. Somerset Maugham's
short stories based in Malaya.....Maugham could write.... most of
George Orwell's books were good too....though you got the feeling Orwell
was mad to have written them. Maybe he should have become a
teacher.... yes of English... general knowledge and things like
that.....he could certainly write better than the people who wrote
articles and stories in the XXXX English Newspaper. But who cares about
literature, grammar and silly things like this nowadays.....the way the
wind blows .......is the way the Crow goes..........
But wait in walks a women of maybe 47, Codwin recognised her at once
because she came on TV often, one of those people who spoke to everyone
kindly on TV but was rude to people like him..... shopworker that he
was. But at times when she was not arrogant hurting peoples feelings she
displayed an unusual variety of talents. One of her talents was
writing poetry in the XXXX English Newspaper.....and what poems they
were.........she had even written a book "The Island of Justice" very
subtle title that and how very True.....Codwin knew her kind only too
well......he would have slipped her a really bad book if she had asked
him to recomend a book....maybe " The Eight Pillars of the ultimate
Truth"..........how it would disappoint her....but of course knowing her
tastes she might even enjoy it and who would be the fool then ?
