When we are born, very little in this world makes sense. (Some may feel that this continues to be the case.) As time goes by, we begin to perceive patterns which bring a sense of order to our tiny selves. Scream like so, for example, and lo! the source of all comfort appears. These features arranged like this always come with that particular voice, and in time we realize that this is A Person.
As the years go by, we start to notice patterns in behaviour. When that person’s face goes that colour, they’re going to shout. When someone stands like that, it means they know they’re in trouble (and they hope you don’t know it yet).
Some people develop this to a finer art than others, but nearly every mind, having got the hang of it, gets completely carried away and starts noticing these patterns everywhere. Those clouds are sticking their tongue out. That tree looks surprised. And this carrot…
What is this carrot trying to say?
5 Replies to “The Body Language of the Carrot”
Split personality? Aspiration to be a figure skater?
about to spinnnnnnnn!
Wanting to go to the toilet but trying desperately to hold on…
There is a greater diversity of opinion here than I had anticipated, I confess. Personally, I am of the Joanna school of carrot interpretation, though it cannot be denied that a carrot performing a corkscrew spin on the ice would be a sight to see (and certainly one for the record books).
My initial understanding of this position is not polite, but I was once a beginner in pirouetting, and the poor wee carrot may have the same coordination problems as me (hope it didn’t fall over as I did).
Looking at it differently, I think its body language shows stress, a need for safety by keeping its limbs together and entwined. It is not the carrot’s fault that it only has two limbs, and can’t do that self-hug thing many of us do (as the poor thing doesn’t have a torso to hug). Let us have pity on it.