A cycle of opinion
It was one of those sequences of events. The timing of which one never knows is actually occurring. But, after yet another night, the same quarrel was somewhere to be heard – often as different voices muttering the same happenstance problem. It was the regular kind; the kind between the chaos of logic and emotion; the noisy or the shrill kind that calls to the interest of the gossips and the preachers.
It also happened that at this time, someone had read a piece. A youth piece, as they are called, on the opinions of life. A life not yet lived (so to speak), but rather it was of how one should live it – as deaf from the sounds of inevitable challenge. And so, with the sway of society and all its norms, codes, rites, and customs, an opinion was made. Word after word, the message flowed without the litmus of reality. Unchallenged it was, but favourable it did sound.
It was at this point that the reader picked up the phone. The author’s opinion invoked such a memory that this person felt impelled to share what had once happened. Perhaps, it was a fateful something that happened 10 maybe 20 years ago (the actual time of which this one would never tell). The reader was brought to a place of regret. In hindsight, the words, the sound, the noise, the tears that occurred so long ago had etched an indelible scar over this person’s heart. And so, the reader cried but, only after reaching for the phone.
Now, as the phone rang the quarrel somewhere continued. The noise had taken the shape of words, but the sobs did render them inaudible. The aggressor and the victim (who’s to say who’s who) were enraged with an opinion over the other, but each opinion without the admonition to know that they were both untrue. Somehow their thoughts came from something they had heard. And, as the phone rang, a pause invited someone (either one) to answer.
Now, before thoughts urged fingertips to keys; before writers made readers; and readers became speakers. There was an opinion. And, for that brief moment the quarrel stopped, the pregnant pause birthing another. Yes, yet another opinion.
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