Style No. 13: Details

Style No. 13: Details


Hey everybody! Another glorious day in the land of literary discombobulation. Today’s style is details. It’s about to get pedantic up in here.

But first! I changed the name of the blog. Doesn’t Epic Word Quest sound better than Robert Nathan? Come to think of it, I’ll should talk to my parents about that. Why did they call me Epic Word Quest?

But enough with the digressions, deviations, divagations, and diversions. On with the show. The epic journey through Raymond Queneau’s tumultuous mental terrain must go on…

A sign of 42 English letters and seven words in Hindi on a black board measuring 61 centimetres across and 37 centimetres tall, and dispensing advice which is generally good, particularly if you value the wearing of shoes. Clicked this with the index of my right hand at an ambient temperature of 27 degrees Celsius in Dharamsala, Himachal Pradesh, India, Asia, Earth, in 2009.


A boy of eleven years, three months, and six days dressed in a t-shirt not more than eight days old and of orange colour but veering slightly toward red on the visible colour spectrum, passed 1.2 pounds of air pressure through a neon-green whistle composed of 21 grams of ABS plastic, deep in thoughts concerning what had occurred between him and a pretty girl from Ludhiana at precisely 11:22 AM the previous day (Indian Standard Time). His best friend, who he had known for five years, eleven months and twenty-nine days, but who had only become his best friend eight days previous on account of having shared his plate of jalebis in an egalitarian manner, leaving each boy with exactly two and a half or 106 calories worth, rested his right arm across the shoulders of the boy, which exerted twelve pounds of downward pressure, and directed his gaze at the congregation of 712 persons some 84 metres ahead. A lady of 67 years and 0 days, who had become a grandmother 12 years, 4 months, and 10 days before, passed by feeling nervous on account of the 5 x 6 x 7 centimetre object resting directly on top of 2318 hair follicles, which she thought might fall from the shawl underneath which it was hiding, thereby breaking in three or perhaps five pieces. Meanwhile, behind them a man weighing 64 kilograms, all 64 of which were exuding an air of seriousness right down to each of the 1.2 trillion cells per kilo, looked knowingly at an angle 72 degrees left of the others.

Thanks for reading 🙂 See you tomorrow.

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