It was during one of my most stressful moments, the sort of moment just before the gases in my stomach are harnessed into a burp, that Jasmitha asked me, “what does fragile mean?”
“What’s your name again?” I asked. “Jasmitha” said Jasmitha.
“Well, it means easily breakable.”
“True, true” said Jasmitha.
She went back to reading her horoscopes. We both kept reading, but I was the only one digesting anything. Jasmitha hadn’t eaten yet. “What does limbs mean?” she asks.
“L-I-M-B-S?”
“Yes.”
“Well, pretend this is a trunk,” this was me making the international sign for trunk “and these things,” which I then indicated by performing the international sign for things that grew out of things “are limbs, which are things that grow out of other things. When we are specifically talking about trees, then in that case it means that those limbs are called branches.”
Jasmitha said, “right, right.”
“But pretend for a moment that this is not a trunk,” I said “pretend we’re talking about your body.” I did not make the international sign for body right then, because I thought this explanation was already quite self-explanatory. “Then that has what we call limbs too,” I continued “they are the arms, and the legs. People in Canada call these arms and legs, limbs.”
“You mean they are like roots?” Jasmitha asked.
“Well, they are like roots, but above ground.”
“Above ground roots,” laughed Jasmitha “drink up the air, now, little roots. Drink, drink.” Jasmitha continued her laughter.
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