A day in the life..

A sense of anticipation.

It always begins with a thin film of perspiration on his forehead. It has been there all along, he only notices it's annoying presence when that sense of anticipation hits him. Always the perspiration. Sometimes when it is exceptionally sultry as it can only be in the tropics, a thin trickle of it traces an annoying line from his armpit down to.. Arrested development; the closely woven cotton of his white vest always stops it on it's lethargic journey.

He contemplates taking out the white tissue paper from his left trouser pocket to wipe away the perspiration from his forehead. On most days, he does so. Sometimes he lets the thought linger in his mind and hence his forehead becomes a shining beacon.. a magnet for the ever present swirling dust. 

With practised movement, he pulls out the white tissue paper, unrolls it and proceeds to dab his once acne-riddled forehead. He contemplates the now wet tissue in his hand with disgust but is at the same time filled with a sense of ease; the kind of sense-of-ease that can only be brought about by a dry forehead.

He lays back in his seat as the wheels churn up the traffic and eat up the distance speedily bringing him to his point of disembarkation. It is always at that confluence of two roads, when all the drivers' blood is at their hottest that he wonders about the distinct lack of road markings. Road markings that would definitely serve to bring all that boiling blood to an even simmer and perhaps to a cooling of exemplary humanity. The sight of unhealthy side walks and and an  even unhealthier roundabout bring him to the incongruity of a bridge without hand rails, that constant reminder of the city's hunger for ugali and steel.

That sense of anticipation comes to a head with the flood of humanity that his ingress into the city brings. An annoying press of flesh that is only made tolerable by the occasional if not frequent sighting of a beautiful, roundly shaped, female behind. Yes, booty makes the world go round, in perfect onion shaped circles!

(To be continued...)

Swords of Ice and Fire

Swords forged of Valyrian steel in the days before the Doom:

1. Ice. It belonged to Ned Stark. It was as wide across as a man’s hand, and taller even than Robb. Spell-forged and dark as smoke. A two-handed greatsword.
2. Heartsbane. It belongs to the Tarlys, bannermen to Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South. It is a storied, two-handed greatsword passed down from father to son near five hundred years. 
3. Longclaw. This sword originally belonged to the Mormonts who carried it for five centuries. It was bequeathed to Jon Snow by the old bear, Lord Commander of the Night's watch. The original pommel was a bear’s head. It was replaced with a pommel made of a hunk of pale stone weighted with lead to balance the long blade, carved into the likeness of a snarling wolf’s head, with chips of garnet set into the eyes. The grip is virgin leather, soft and black. The blade itself is a good half foot longer than those Jon was used to, tapered to thrust as well as slash, with three fullers deeply incised in the metal. Where Ice was a true two-handed greatsword, this is a hand-and-a-halfer, sometimes named a “bastard sword.”
4. Brightroar. A sword that once belonged to the old Kings of the Rock, the predecessors of the Lannisters. It was lost when the second King Tommen carried it back to Valyria.
5. Widow’s Wail. Forged from the greatsword Ice as a wedding present to Joffrey Baratheon from his grandsire, Tywin Lannister.  This sword was infused with crimson during the forging such that blended into the folds was a red as deep as the grey of the original steel. It has two fullers.  The arms of its crossguard are done as lions’ paws with ruby claws unsheathed. It has a grip of finely tooled red leather and a gold lion's heads for a pommel.
6. Oathkeeper. Forged from the greatsword Ice  as a gift from Tywin Lannister to his son Jamie Lannister. It is similar in all respects to Widow's wail only differing in size and and being less ostentatious. It is thicker and heavier, a half-inch wider and three inches longer. Three fullers, deeply incised, run down the blade from hilt to point. Jamie Lannister passed the sword to Brienne, the maid of Tarth, upon setting off on her quest for Sansa Stark.
7. The sword Red Rain. It belongs to The Drumm (Dunstan Drumm) of the Iron Islands
8. The sword Nightfall, adorned with a moonstone pommel. It belongs to Ser Harras Harlaw of the Iron Islands 

Nothing holds an edge like Valyrian steel. It is known.