Review - Robot the movie

Rajinikanth. The Man. The Myth. The Legend. The Robot. In whichever order you may prefer. Across India the Tamil actor is simply worshipped as "Superstar" or "Thalaivar" (leader).


Every Rajinikanth movie release sees thousands of ordinary South Indians bathing his life-size film posters in milk, film-reels being carried like holy idols to the theater projection room.


His every on-screen move and dialogue then cheered, imitated and immortalized.


And it’s no different for "Robot," Rajni’s first film in four years, which released with a thunderclap in Mumbai on October 1.


With crowds swarming to theaters it’s a forgone conclusion that “Robot” will be one of the biggest blockbusters of this year, marking the moment Rajni broke all barriers in Indian cinema.


He annihilates language concerns, scales every Asian film-making ambition and proffers a Tamilian poker-faced sense of sheer ludicrousness that makes Mumbai’s Bollywood feel like film noir.


'Robot/Enthiran': Mind-blowing, multi-language SFX action spectacle

Rajni's latest film releases in three languages simultaneously -- “Enthiran” (Tamil), dubbed “Robot” in Hindi and “Robo” in Telegu.


The most expensive film to be made in Asia at a cost of Rs 162 crore (upwards of USD$36 million), the South Indian production teams up director S. Shankar (“Boys”, “Jeans”, “Gentleman”) and Oscar-winning music composer A.R. Rahman, who come together for the second time with Rajinikanth after scoring big with “Sivaji -- The Boss” in 2007.


This time no expense is spared in an attempt to mount India's best sci-fi flick, which is basically "The Matrix" meets Tollywood. If you can imagine it.


Gargantuan in its canvas, there is nothing subtle about “Robot.”


It's meant to be a loud, action-packed, foot-stomping, mind-bending, visually stunning entertainer. And that is exactly what it is.


Every 10 minutes you have to turn to your neighbor and say, “He DIDN’T just do that?” But he did. And with such a straight face he could be Will Ferrell’s guru.


That’s why it does not matter that a song sequence has been visualized in front of the stunning Machu Pichu in South America with lyrics about Kilimanjaro in Africa or Mohenjodaro in Pakistan. It’s all part of the Rajinikanth-Shankar magic.


A complete suspension of belief that is the quintessence of Indian mass cinema.
Rajinikanth plays a hundred roles


The plot revolves around a scientist Dr. Vasigaran (Rajinikanth) who has toiled for 10 years and finally built an android-humanoid robot called Chitthi (Rajinikanth in a double role).


The robot is a super-hero with retractable wheels on the soles of his feet.


Chitthi can leap, Chitthi can fight, Chitthi can speak in 30 languages, is a master-chef, a painter, a mine-sweeper, a surgeon delivering babies, a make-up artist, a henna artist and a super-fighting machine who can talk to mosquitoes and take on dengue.


But he lacks emotions.


To make his creation viable Dr. Vasigaran reprograms emotions into Chitthi. All hell breaks loose when Chitthi falls in love with Sana who is Vasigaran’s love, played by Aishwarya Rai-Bachchan simmering on-screen like a dancing peacock with some new-age styling.


The classic Bollywood villain -- actor Danny Denzongpa -- plays a rival scientist who wants to use the technology behind Chitthi for terrorism. Chitthi who only wants Sana is now manipulated by Danny, who puts an evil program chip into Chitthi.


Chitthi seeks revenge, clones his evil self into hundreds of avatar-robots, and destroys everything in his path to kidnap and then imprison Sana.


Rajinikanth’s Dr. Vasigaran is a brilliantly subdued and serious foil to his evil avatar as Chitthi, who is OTT and frighteningly funny, a bit like Heath Ledger’s Joker, but with Rajinikanth’s villainous mega laugh -- and that’s no mean advantage.


The climax is a visual effects triumph, where hundreds of Rajinikanths swarm the city and begin destroying it.


For the first time ever, one could say the special effects of a Hindi movie are as good as anything Hollywood can produce. The team behind the CG wizardry is Industrial Light & Magic (“Avatar”, “Star Wars”, “Titanic”) and the action-team has Matrix trilogy pedigree.


The effects are Hollywood in their crispness, but the story telling, humor and milieu is Indian. We’re talking snakes, corrupt cops, medical school, information technology, religious worship, train action sequences throughout R. Rathnavelu’s fantastic cinematography.


“Robot/Enthiran” is an out-and-out Rajni movie, and for the price of one ticket you get to see hundreds of him. Fans, like me, couldn’t ask for a better deal.
Pushing 60 and still humble, flimsy toupee and all


Did I mention Rajinikanth is 61 years old? And kicking butt way better than Harrison Ford in the 2008 Indiana Jones sequel.


You see Rajinikanth doesn’t care about fame. He is the only Indian super-star actor who will appear in public without his wig, joking about his bald head at the "Robot" music launch party in Mumbai.


He shows that he appreciates what make-up can do. His wild on-screen hairstyles are meant to look fake.


Rajinikanth humbly separates the real and the reel with no hang-ups to show for it and smiles and jigs his way to box-office success almost every time.

And that’s why millions love him.


To the masses he is a bus conductor who became a demi-god. They voted for him to hold office in Tamil Nadu politics. And to the uber-cool Bandra-Banjara Hills-Ballygunge types he is the kitschy kaleidoscopic cult hero. What Chuck Norris is to his Facebook fans.


On the day “Robot” released, a popular tweet read: "Rajni's Robot released. Rajni gave the Times of India four stars."

And there’s emails doing the rounds right now with long lists,

"Rajinikanth can kill two stones with one bird."
"Rajinikanth’s tombstone will not say R.I.P but BRB."
“Rajinikanth’s calendar goes straight from March 31 to April 2, no one fools Rajinikanth.”

Way cooler than anything Jack Bauer fans have ever come up with. Want more? Mumbai Ishstyle claims to have complied the whole list.


Global cult following, Japan too

In Japan, land of the kinky, they don’t worship Jack Bauer by dancing and singing along to his theme songs on reality television dance shows do they?

Rajinikanth fan clubs in Japan have members who swear by his dress sense and action style.

Rajinikanth has even appeared as a co-hero in the Hollywood film “Blood-Stone” at a time when Indian stars were meant for the odd Merchant-Ivory period drama or all bundled in to the “Gandhi” biopic.

Rajinikanth deserves all the glory. He deserves to be the highest paid actor in Asia after Jackie Chan.


Seriously, now. Who can pull off splitting a bullet into two with a blade to kill two enemies at once? Who can launch a sandstorm with his vigorously waving arms? Or throw a cigarette in the air and shoot a bullet to light it then catch the lit cigarette with his mouth?


He’s actually cornered the global market on surreal. New York Magazine even compiled a slide-show for "Sivaji" titled "25 Reasons Why This Indian Dance-Battle-Romance Spectacle Is More Mind Blowing Than Inception."


Though Rajinikanth has appeared in many super-hit Hindi movies like “Hum,” “Andha-Kanoon” and “Chaalbaaz" (all of which were multi-starrers) success as a solo star has always eluded Rajni in Bollywood and other Hindi-speaking regions of India.


A hundred of himself, are going to have the last laugh now.


Read more: Rajinikanth's 'Robot' to end all robots | CNNGo.com http://www.cnngo.com/mumbai/play/rajinikanths-robot-end-all-robots-538335#ixzz12eQEkiC8

Movie Review - "Paa"

In a sachcharine filled artificially sweetened world of Bollywood movies with it's make believe plots and uber cool families, where Paris stands in for patiala and where caricature rules the roost, comes a film that stands out with it's pure heart warming tale about a boy named Auro.
The biggest superstar with his trademark face and baritone decides to give those up, and to deep dive into one of the most difficult roles, and manages to enthrall the audience with a superlative performance.
So pure and simple in it's narrative, Paa is one of the best movies of 2009. No shaadis, no hip hop, no foreign dancers or the melodrama that accompanies a bollywood vehicle.
Sumptuously filmed and brilliantly acted by the principal cast. Paa is not a weepy film like Black. It's not a sentimental journey into the progeria affected world of Auro. It's a celebration. Abhishek plays it straight and Vidya Balan who seems to have finally got her styling right, is brilliant. Nag is fantastic as the mother who is a friend to Auro. And surprisingly it's not a big b vehicle. It does not star amitabh Bachchan. It's star is Auro. A brand new actor who makes his Bollywood debut. So believable, so lovable and so brilliant. In a role that is sure to get amitabh his second national award amongst all the other ones, he plays a role never done before. In perhaps the biggest gamble in his acting career, he gives up all that he is famous for, all the traits that the world knows him for - his looks, his gait, his voice, his dance, his image and replaces each with a unique and mind blowing brand new alternative. For not a single moment does one see amitabh on screen. Auro regales us with his sense of humor, and is the epitome of all things positive. The entire casting is spot on and they should all share the limelight for making this movie so believable and so unlike a bollywood movie.

Balki strikes the real believable and heart warming chord once again after Cheeni Kum. In a poignantly directed film he lets the characters play out their roles without being seen. No gimmicks no punches pulled. Just tells the story as is. Maestro Illaiyaraja is in vintage form. Brilliant. His tunes complement the movie and the songs and background score are brilliant. Beautifully shot and edited Paa is the Baap of all bollywood movies. If there's one movie that needs to be seen it's this. For the sheer courage it has taken the team to bring this to life.

Go see the movie on the big screen.

MOvie Review - "Rocket Singh - Salesman of the Year"

Over the past three yrs Real Cinema has emerged out of the woodwork of Bollywood. Dibakar Banerjee with Khosla and Oye lucky, Balki with Cheeni Kum and Paa, Anurag with Dev D and Black Friday, Shashant Shah with Dasvidaniya, Sagar Bellary with Bheja Fry, and Shimit Amin blessed with the backing of YRF has given us Chak De India and now Rocket Singh. What sets apart these films? Do they have a secret direction rider that states no foreign locations, no helicopters, and no Russian dancers? We will never know. But what we do know is tht these movies have a "real" touch to them. Honest storytelling is the main motive. Stories that are about people and ordinary lives, and not about manhattan and mehndi. Rocket Singh is the story of one man's journey into the big bad corporate world of salesmanship. And everything about him and the story is real. Yes he is a Sardar and they speak Punjabi at home, but he does not count stars or talk about Chandni chowk and wear Armani or strut the London bridge. It's a heartwarming tale of a man who fights the odds and lives life on his own terms through the world around him maybe corrupt and bad. I don't want to talk about the story as the magic will be lost. And cleverly written lines of mine will not give you the whole picture. So. The movie is very. Well written and it's glorious to see Prem Chopra not as a paraplegic comic in a B grade comedy caper but as a doting grandfather who has a great sense of humor and is a perfect foil to Ranbir. Well cast the actors play the characters and Gauhar Khan is a revelation. But the cherry on the cake is Ranbir Kapoor. A brilliantly understated performance that gives him the tag of an actor. No towel-wearing silhouettes, or dancing on Greek islands. We always knew he had great comic timing, the charisma to pull off solo hero projects. But this movie will make you take him as an actor. The script is brilliant and detailed. The direction is flawless and after ages comes to a movie that relies not on montage, gimmicks, and stars but on the script and the lines. Without a song, the movie is a slice-of-life film. It's not a multiplex film. It's good cinema. Blessed by a studio budget Shimit Amin utilizes the budget to tell a story well like he did in Chak De. And big studios should support such real cinema. What started off with Bheja Fry has now given the chance for good scripts to emerge. Rocket Singh is poignant, funny, touching and like Chak De it's an underdog story told well. The art direction is brilliant and blends into the movie brilliantly. Real. Watch Rocket Singh.

Movie Review of "3 Idiots"

There is a difference between something good and something great. It's the slip between the cup and the lip. So in terms of Indian movies sholay is great, taare zameen par is great, munnabhai is great. In fact the three films are more than great. But 3 idiots is not a great film. It's a good film. Do I hear outcries of anger when I say this?it's my opinion and it's subjective. 3 idiots is a very likeable good film. It's got a kick-ass cast of actors the finest perhaps in the country, with Aamir leading the way. It has been gloriously filmed, the music and songs are good, the milieu of the engineering college captured efficiently and that is what makes the first half of the movie so likeable. But it's a character that Aamir has done many times before - the lovable comic underdog. And boman returning in yet another of avatar of the principal seen in munnabhai is now too familiar a move. That does not mean he does not excel in his role. My belief is that boman can do any role. And here too he is fantastic. But the character does not rise above what he had achieved with Asthana. And of course the expectation of the RDB trio returning is high. As for the chemistry between them - it's good but not as great as it was in RDB. As for individual performances Sharmaan shines. Madhavan is good. Aamir is good. But this is where the movie stands. It's a good film. Intact a bloody good film. But not a great one. The length is too long, the implausibility of the second half with Javed jaffrey, and what was with the baby delivery sequence? If Virus needed to be taught a lesson could it not have been better to do it the way Rocket Singh dealt with hi nemesis. Stuck to his guns and ideals - no melodrama. Could it have been dealt differently? Who knows? We see what we see on the screen. Finally, Kareena Kapoor. It's a miniscule role. Yes it is. If anybody told you that this movie is not an Aamir Khan vehicle then they would be lying. It's an out and out Aamir film. Kareena shone in Jab we met and Chameli. Here she does not disappoint in whatever little she has been given. Munnabhai series upped the ante in movie making and story telling. And Rajkumar hirani had shown us what a great film maker he is. And the expectation indeed was high with 3 idiots. Is itvthe story? Or is it just the whole product? It's a movie that has to be seen just like munnabhai, taare zameen oar, rang de basanti. When I walked out of the theatre after watching the three mentioned films I was moved. And so was the nation. Sending bouquets, and standing up for justice became the mantra of the nation. But after 3 idiots all we take back is All is well. And that is where lies the little chink in the armour. Unlike the three movies mentioned which had very strong messages and often multiple messages, this movie has just one message of allowing people to chase their dreams. And it gets stretched across almost three hours. Do watch 3 Idiots - it's a good film. A film that the team should be proud of producing. And as viewers we should definitely watch. But pardon my observation - it's not a taare zameen par, nor is it munnabhai. It's a good film not a great one. Actually I am being very generous when i say it's good. It's a very average film. Amen.

BORDERS

Drawing lines in imaginary spaces

Dividing all by the color of their faces

Their races, their language, where their space is

Does not matter if the line cuts through homes

The tomes that they read about God

That say draw a line,

Draw a sword,

Draw blood

Let it flood,

Let each space be washed in red

The slaughtered heads which your lines create

Fate hangs in balance as with your HB2 Ajanta

You draw a line, so fine,

It’s only yours not mine

No rights, no left, no wrongs, no songs

No this, no that, no what, no ifs,

No buts, no whys

And then the darkening of the skies,

The Junes, the Julys

As people prepare to cross the line

You rant, with a map in hand

Showing them where they stand

As they huddle together inside a box

You built for them as home

You turn out the lights

Squeeze the fight out of them

As you turn on the gas.

THE PRELUDE

Bang your head against the wall
And fall
For reasons beyond your grasp
Only to beck and call.
And always like the ways
The stench of putrid days;
One stares at burnt bottom of pans,
While somewhere a pantomime plays.
Numbers on the pages you hold,
The clammy dungeon, the cold
Monster stands scythe-handed
For your life is sold.
The lullaby from the mouth
That silently shout
And stick out tongues to lick your face
Into a mesmerizing doubt,
Only then to slice you complete
The pleading bleat
Of the stab of your pen through the heart
Like a knife through dead meat.

What a start
To the beginning.

STATIC CONVERSATIONS

Old voices over phones with static
A face you once knew
But now thousands of miles away,
Seem a dim, faded projection
Like the stained pages of your diary
Dated 1986
Just like the remnants of tea-leaves
At the bottom of your cup.
Silence is your conversation
Though you thought you had
A million tales to tell.
The static is all that remains.

THE BUTCHER

Loneliness makes its onslaught felt –

The hanging carcass in the butcher’s shop.

Life drains out

With drops of blood and tears;

The glassy stare of the severed head.

While God laughs

Slicing another piece of you.

image courtesy: www.wired2theworld.com/nepal1.htm

MERGING

I shall not smell the rain
Or hear the breaking of dawn –
A trail of black smoke
Is all that I will be;
A thin sliver of ash and
A boat of flowers, afloat
As my body will bid adieu
To my soul.
I shall not smell the rain –
I will be the rain,
And I will be the breaking dawn.
In nothingness shall I exist.
I will be nothing – yet everything.

change is good. change is permanent. change washes away the old, and welcomes the new... blah blah blah blah... and so shall it be, and so it shall come to pass... hmmm.this is what i feel about the horrific attack on mumbai - the aftermath and reactions from the people... this time things will change... because it's no longer the middle-class commuter on the train that has died... or the hand-cart pushers in a dingy alley... or just nameless faces with no standing in the social strata... things will change because the rich have lost friends and family, industrialists have been mowed down, and 5 star hotels in whichnthe elite hob-nob have been damaged... really a sad thing to say - but it's true... how many news reporters just went on and on abt the taj being the icon of bombay - and how it is being damaged!! screw you!! how can you even bother sobbing over a structure (historic, regal, much loved etc no doubt) when human lives were at stake... and we had a "peddar road" resident come out and say "oh i go to the taj when i feel depressed, and i had to come here today..." wrong thing to say - but guess what? this time things will change, and leaders will be pulled up. this one has hit where it hurts most. We have insensitive journalism, irresponsible politicians and leaders and the system is corrupt... and then we talk abt the "bombay spirit" crap! we pay the hoghest taxes in the country - do we get any back? and when we do it just disappears... did anyone notice Mod telling a person to shove off and not block the frame, as that person was standing in between the news cameras and Modi!!! the cheek and cheapness of it all - that idiot wanted the world to see that he had arrived and was mourning - when we have leaders like these... will there ever be salvation? when will our cops get proper equipment, when will our leaders stop passing the buck? on a show, barkha dutt asked shobha de about how the politicians for the first time seem united - shobha de replied - they ae not doing anybody any fvors - this is their job... how ironic but true - that we have a nation being torn apart by corrupt politicians and an inefficient system - who needs terrorists? in the USA, the different positions are given to leaders with credentials so that a banker does not get home ministry (as we have in India) - shouldnt the army/genral/armed forces be in charge of The Home Ministry - who else is better equipped or knowledgeable... a 75 year old man who has a criminal record or some such person who the nation has elected!! we are an incredible nation - we are doomed to say the least if we don't see change now!! because soon 26/11 will remain a piece of memory - or garlanding photographs of the martyrs where political leaders will show their "solidarity"... when will we change?

Indian Journalism at its worst - Mumbai Terror Attacks

Please get Indian news journalists off air
We have blamed politicians, we have pointed fingers at cops, we have asked questions about fire-fighters reaching late, and we have wondered who to blame for the security lapses. But have any of the TV news channels been chastised for being one of the biggest reasons behind the ordeal lasting for 59 hours?
Every move that the NSG commandos made, every tactical position that they took up, every detail of the hotel guests hiding, every arrival of fresh commandos and back-up was revealed with accurate detail by every journalist present at the Terror-Venues. In their bid to out-do each other, in the mad-rush to be first, some channels even gave out wrong information creating panic amongst citizens, only to retract it later with a lame apology. As representatives of the Nation’s News brigade isn’t there a code of conduct that they follow? Don’t the journos ratify the information they get? And one Hindi news channel even showed images of a head separated from its torso – one of the victims of the CST attack – on TV!!! What kind of journalism is this?
The Hindi news channel India TV (that recently did a news story about whether aliens too drank cow’s milk) had or claimed to have one of the terrorists calling them up LIVE on air. See it to believe it.
http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=CVI4Mdf1tE4
The militants followed every bit of news on TV, followed every Twitter update, visited web pages on their blackberrys – they knew every tactical detail that they required to know to aid them attack better. The news that NSG commandos were on their way to Mumbai just helped them to plan much in advance. This is what The Times of India had to say on their online edition http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/Mumbai/Blow-by-blow_breaking_news_breaks_viewer_patience/articleshow/3785897.cms
And no one delivered tactical info better than one of the most senior and Padmashree Award recipient television journalist – Barkha Dutt. She was in your face – loud, frothing, sensationalist and irritating. She did her walk-through the crowd, pointing the camera to them, pulling bystanders for sound-bites, and pointing to broken glass and curtains. When the NSG chief asked the crowd at Nariman House to disperse and be quiet as the operation was still under-way, Ms. Dutt pointed the cameras on the crowd and got them excited. Does every bit of news that she reports has to have a sensational angle? And at one point after the Taj ordeal is over she urges the commandos to give thumbs up sign and then shouting and asking him – “are there any more terrorists?” The NSG chief already told the world that... and then she turns to cam and says “I have just heard from the commando that there are no terrorists inside!!”
It seems that the online community is united in its opinion on the shoddy journalistic ethics of not only Ms. Dutt but of all the news channels. There are groups on Facebook like “Barkha Dutt for worst senior journalist on the planet” which has 834 members and growing - http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=37072947818
Yet another group on Facebook that boasts of 2409 members is called “Can you please take Barkha off air” http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=37072947818#/group.php?gid=37165432771
Chyetanya Kunte on his blog - http://ckunte.com/archives/shoddy-journalism has this to say about Ms. Dutt’s reportage:
“In another instance, a General sort of suggests that there were no hostages in Oberoi Trident. (Clever.) Then, our herione of revelations calls the head of Oberoi, and the idiot confirms a possibility of 100 or more people still in the building. Hello! Guys with guns, you’ve got more goats to slay. But before you do, you’ve got to love NDTV and more precisely Ms. Dutt. She’s your official intelligence from Ground zero.”
There is Raaj who reacts to Cheytanya’s blog with his comment http://ckunte.com/archives/shoddy-journalism#comment-16494
“I guess she made more damage (if there can be something like that) during her reporting in Kargil. My Brother-in-law was fighting in one of the operations ‘exposed’ by Barkha Dutt (the terrorists stooge in the media) and his blood boils at the very mention of this women as he says a lot of our brave jawans were lost because of this channels greed for TRP’s. The greatest irony is that she got an award for this ‘reporting’.”
And for all wondering if there are any rules and regulations that the News Broadcasters have to follow – there is. http://www.thehoot.org/web/home/story.php?storyid=3296&pg=1&mod=1§ionId=7&valid=true
Take a look at it for yourself and see how many of these rules and guidelines were broken during the onslaught of the media while Mumbai burned

Oh! Calcutta

Calcutta was a dream, and is a dream
To the teeming millions in the countryside.
A dream in stones – the Victoria Memorial,
Captured in plastic jerry-cans on the foot-path

The East India Company of the yesteryears
Built the city, the cathedrals, and the docks.
They left some customs on sitting rooms
Of Ballygunge and Tollygunge areas.

The Howrah Bridge is a world of its own
Where in thousands dwell, and young men wrestle.
The Alipore Zoo is a weekend family centre,
Depending on which side of the fence you stand.

In conditioned luxury, few are chauffer driven
For millions, life hangs by three fingers.
Lunch-packs under their arms, the world stands
And waits in the queue for the 420 bus.

The executive with his VIP brief-case;
The school boy loaded with his tuitions and text-books
The daily laborers push-cart their lives day through night
When beggars plead, and lepers chase flies.

Sorry Kipling, here East meets West in a nightmarish union
And history and science jostle for the first place.
For all this and much more, I love you Calcutta,
City of my birth, and centre of my civilization

Stand Back

No favors here,

When you take my hand

For a sense of direction

Or even just cold comfort.

No favors here –

Just a smile perhaps;

But you laugh

At the proverbial fool.

You laugh so loud,

I’m shocked awake to learn

Always keep my hands to myself.

the mad man by your car window

He sits by the wayside

The tide has washed

Away his mind

Be kind and don’t ask

What is it that he wants…

If he could just step back in time

The pantomime that plays inside his head

Is not his.

Strange dull ache is all that he feels

Because all that remain

With him are flash-cuts from

An Oliver Stone film

Which, has nothing to do

With what he felt, saw, touched or sensed

Or the life he once had,

Or did he have a life at all,

He doesn’t know.

 

He cringes in the dark

Like a rat that knows his end is near

But he wished he only knew

Who he was, what he was

And put aside his fear

Of dying a nameless death

On the side-walk

And get collected by the cops

With a toe-tag that only gives a count

Like the endless white screams

The mindless dreams

That he hears every night, every time

The sun begins to fade.

His little tattered blanket

Keeps him warm, dry,

And sometimes acts as a shield

From the prying world

When he begins to eat his only meal

Of half-eaten fruit thrown at the dogs

Which he grabbed for hunger’s sake.

He wishes someone would throw

His memory back to him

So that he could understand

The reason behind his pain.

 

Someone once said that

He carried a picture of a girl

Faded, now dirty

Like the old t-shirt which he wears

says Levi’s 501.

There was a time when he stared

At passing cars

Trying to match the picture to a face.

Till all that remained

Was a blur of wheels

Burnt into the depths of his mind

Where now,

The wheels have long stopped turning,

And it’s just a roar that remains...