Perhaps, because I have the leisure, I am attempting the postmodern. I realize the risk
of failure. But what is success without it? Thus saying, I will try to apply this theory to
my experience. So the following stories, or accounts rather (because "plot" is "inherent"
in "story") are what could be possible:

Possible Account # 1:
First, let me introduce myself. I am -----. I will be your "narrator" for the moment. As I
am aware, I am sitting on a -----. Three others who most likely are men, because they
look like men, join me at the table. They are sitting too. Or perhaps they are
kneeling, which is not possible because, as far as I am concerned, I am sitting (I 
could see a portion of my right thight), so they should be sitting too. I establish that
all four of us are sitting. Four of us, and four hands are place on the table; the other
four are elsewhere. The table shoulders a light burden: three teacups and their
respective saucers, three glasses, something behind one of the glasses, some 
paper. There is a truck near us: we are outdoors, near vegetation. Two men are 
wearing light-colored shirts. I and my friend, whose name is -----, are dressed in
what seems to be army camouflage. I repeat that we are all men, living, sitting,
together physically at a table outdoors. It is that simple. I am that literal.

Possible Account # 2:
I focus now on my friend whose name is -----, because he is clothed similarly. 
(The other two are now relegated as the "others.") I could feel a bond forming
between us; perhaps not now, but maybe later. This is what I foreshadow.

Possible Account # 3:
We are all actors. We are in a movie called "Cosmic Universe." This is, 
in reality, a docudrama detailing the intricate relations among people and
their development. I am casted as the right-hand man of an army general, a
supporting role at best. He has landed the top-billing, but I could
have made a better lead. The other two are extras. In this scene, we are 
told to look serious in our conversations as if we are debating life and death.

Action. There is something wrong with this picture. The fledgling director
places the camera on the same spot for the whole duration. This is unfortunate:
this way, I could not flaunt my talents to its full capacity. I am not
revealed as a rounded character. But neither does he.

Possible Account # 4:
He is someone I know. He is the son of someone that I could possibly, or
perhaps already know. He is the son of someone. Perhaps, he is someone's
father. At his age (he is certainly past thirty), in this ???? culture, he
is expected to beget at least a child. If not, does that make a difference?
Does it make him less a human being?

He still breathes, lives, experiences. He is a learner as well as a teacher.
He has his moments of joy and of despair. Like all of us, he sins and is
sinned against. Maybe he is equipped with the capacity of forgiveness,
all the better for us.

Possible Account # 5:
His face is a quagmire of interpretations. His high forehead suggests a 
brilliant mind; this is perfect for planning a coup d'etat. His hair, slicked
back, indicates preparation. His short eyebrows show impatience that command
immediate obedience. His wide eyebags reveal loyalty and dedication.
His large nose builds confidence and a superior self-image required of
a natural leader. His mouth is slightly puckered, signifying thoughtfulness and concern.
His hands are firm and flat upon the table:his grim 
determination to succeed.

Possible Account # 6:
This is my stream of consciousness: At the moment, there is an apparition that 
crouches near the trees. It is floating forward stealthily, and appears to ride
on my friend's shoulders. He is granted an audience and does not know it. He is
indeed blessed; this significance might be further illuminated.

Possible Account # 7:
I now venture beyond the level of metonymy. I am trying on metaphors.
My friend is the circled one. He is supposedly the centre. He plays his role
well; everyone is attentive to him: he faces the space before him with semi-lidded
eyes while we three direct our gaze upon him. We are like planets to his sun:
orbiting, orbiting. He somehow manages to retain this position, at least,
that is what he shows the world.

Possible Account # 8:
Silence. Pure silence. Externally, mouths are moving, some hands gesturing.
Internally, thoughts maybe are wandering or perhaps they are at a stand still.
Nevertheless, mine oscillate from the subconscious to the surface (but never
spilling out). Although the leaves that surround us rustle, whatever sound
that maybe is not realized in this account: for in this instance, I am numb.

Possible Account # 9:
We are props.

Possible Account # 10:
We are in a place called -----. Geography is one of my weakest subjects;
provide me a map, a compass, and other devices, still, I will get lost.
I map out my thoughts better, and I relay them to you. I have little 
confidence in everything else.

What is "True":

I cannot disclose our place to you. I/We refuse to be located, identified. 
You will have to be satisfied with what I, the "narrator," have told you.
You can make grandiose interpretations; I cannot have that control.
No one does. Do I have to beat you over the head that everything is subjective?