I tore the book open.........read the only line umpteen number of times but they weren't just getting the hang of me!It was those odd days when i slide my hand over those dusted sheets and roll my inkless pen over it.
I scratched over ridiculously mumbling to myself.......here and there the tension making deep holes.I snatched it to support my nearsightedness ...... read it re read it against the light........balled it, crumpled it and into the paper bin.Another piece flew onto my table.......regretting it's luck today.The tension stronger.......the scratches deeper.....the inkless pen gave way.......some dry ink and some forcefully concealed blot my paper.The pattern, it was elegant but not my state of mind.More and more into the basket they flow and the perfect is yet to be........i hate how they are with ink or inkless.The last of which i treasure.......the patchy yellow one, it taught me to preserve it.The mood is stabilised......much because of saturation........now the book i had tore open makes sense even if i have to consult the oxford dictionary
amazing things happen in life and sometimes we're afraid of what took over us!---------------from the diary of
Anya
