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If Kafka and Blade are reincarnated as sunflowers, side by side in a field full of other such flowers, you would find them leaning not towards the sun for its light and warmth, but towards each other. Their petals would brush ever so tenderly against each other, soft and warm and full of the kind of delicate love the sun cannot ever hope to measure up to. A honeybee might buzz around them, eager for some of their nectar, but be a little surprised to find that the sweetness they desire is not meant for it, but for each other.
They contribute nothing to the ecosystem of the field, and the sun too admonishes them for not rising up and meeting it every morning, but they are content and in full bloom all the same.
They are two sunflowers nestled comfortably, petals all kissed by dew and by each other.
If Kafka and Blade are reincarnated as stray cats on a quaint and peaceful street in a residential part of town, you would find them lazing about on a summer’s afternoon on the compound wall of an apartment complex, unbothered by any of the resident dogs that dare bark up at them. The cat that is Kafka would stretch languidly, lazily blinking down at the drab scene below. Her eyes narrow into slits nearly reptilian in nature, gemstone eyes blazing, and the dog whines and scampers off with its tail between its legs. Kafka yawns. She is waiting for her partner to come back.
The cat that is Blade has gone foraging for food, and when a kindly stranger coos at him and crouches, beckoning him to them, he resists the urge to hiss at them when he sees a packet of biscuits. They will do quite well, and he pads forward quietly, letting him be petted to hell and back by this troublesome human. The scritches feel good, and he offers them a few little purrs as a thank-you. Then he swipes the packet of biscuits in his mouth and darts away, leaving the bamboozled person behind as he makes his way back to his partner.
Returning with the biscuits, he shares them with Kafka, licking her softer fur affectionately. Their tails flick and swish in unison.
They are two cats on a compound wall on a summer’s day munching on biscuits together.
If Kafka and Blade are reincarnated as two koi fish in a pond, you would find the contrast between their appearances most amusing indeed. Kafka is the brightest and most colourful fish in the pond, scales a beautiful hue reminiscent of pearls in the evening sun, and all the other fish want to be by her side. She’s a selective little fishie, and doesn’t let any of the others come near her—lest she jet away with unprecedented speed for a fish, leaving behind a trail of nothing but bubbles. Blade is a black koi, a quiet fish who mostly keeps to himself, and this fish is the one Kafka has chosen to spend most of her time with. He is quiet, but very sweet.
She swims round and round, making great laps around the body of water, hoping he will join her. Her mouth bobs open and closed in a rhythmic manner, and if fish had voices she would likely be singing. The black koi fish wonders what singing could sound like. He follows her, and they swim round and round together in the pond, not caring if the other fish are watching and wondering.
It is a wonderful spring day, and the water is the perfect temperature for life to thrive at its finest. Swimming together is the most ideal activity for the aquatic life, allowing the time to pass in each other’s company.
They are two koi fish swimming round and round in a pond on a lovely spring day.
If Kafka and Blade are reincarnated as sparrows, you would find them chittering on a branch in the early hours of the morning, even before the sun itself has woken up. The tree is tall, the tallest in the forest, so tall that it touches the sky and the clouds weave through it. It is full of sparrows just like themselves, but with so many fellow birdies, there is hardly room for building a nest that will cozily fit them both on this sky-touching tree. There may be other trees that touch the sky, too, but this one is their favourite.
So they flutter down to the base of the tree; yes, the ground, and begin to build a nest here. The sky is shrouded by the canopy of leaves, and they are the only two sparrows on the ground while the rest of their friends take to the skies and soar, uninhibited. Blade thinks Kafka might want to join the rest of them up there and fly, and he twitters so, but Kafka ruffles up her feathers and adds another twig to their cozy little nest. It doesn’t matter to her where she stays as long as Blade-bird is with her.
They finish building their nest, made up of twigs and soft soil, and Blade catches a worm and feeds it to Kafka as a way to inaugurate their lovely homestead. It’s quiet down here, but there are worms, and there is Blade and Kafka, twittering to each other happily while the world above is all frenzied wingflaps.
They are two sparrows who have built a nest of their own on the ground, away from the sky and the clouds and yet content to be exactly where they are.
If Kafka and Blade are reincarnated as two humans, on a planet that knows the most peace and the least strife, they would be inseparable companions. Warm hands, warm hearts, and warm souls. They would grow up together, sharing their sorrows and their joys, and coming to appreciate the lively sparkle in the other’s eyes deeper and deeper with each passing day.
Blade would ask Kafka where she thinks love is found, and she would smile and tell him how she sees it in the way two sunflowers lean against each other, finding more worth in them than in the bright light of the sun; the way two cats share a stolen packet of biscuits together on a hot summer’s day, apathetic to the pesky dogs and the annoying humans; the way two koi fish swim laps around their little pond in springtime, lonely souls in a lonelier world having chosen of their own will to keep the other company; and the way two sparrows build a nest and make a home on the ground together, even with their freedom unshackled and the sky their limit.
And Blade too would smile, and nod, and agree that these are indeed where love can be found.