Some stories are strange.
Absolutely complete despite not meeting their fate.
Stories which started from the middle of Whirlpool and got stuck somewhere. Stories with their end moving in the opposite direction, are in search of a common arrow.
People who think for others beyond themselves... Possess the destiny of often losing their own self.... the definite destiny.
People having high dreams, who ever wanted a lot from life. Life gives them everything but in a ruthless transaction it snatches that one small heartily desire secretly from small estate, ultimately equalising the deal.
Characters like such will get lost in the mist somewhere far away.... In just 3-4 years. When for the time are flying, vagabond, alluvial clouds stayed ? They will find a place to shower their empathy.
The day when accumulated capital of emotions, memories, the binded way will become unbearable...
When the heart will get tired by frequent acts of being rebel.
That day , on an unknown level it will rain to compromise with that sole desire left to be fulfilled.
That day ,the real personality must die in the game hosted by the nature.
Those murmuring clouds , somewhere far away must have permeated the earth with their drops getting bound but devotedly.
But that story???
What about that....???
Stories will remain imprisoned for centuries in that vortex...
Waiting for the clouds which will never return.
Clouds which got settled somewhere else...
Forever and ever....
Read 'Those Stains'
Absolutely complete despite not meeting their fate.
Stories which started from the middle of Whirlpool and got stuck somewhere. Stories with their end moving in the opposite direction, are in search of a common arrow.
People who think for others beyond themselves... Possess the destiny of often losing their own self.... the definite destiny.
People having high dreams, who ever wanted a lot from life. Life gives them everything but in a ruthless transaction it snatches that one small heartily desire secretly from small estate, ultimately equalising the deal.
Characters like such will get lost in the mist somewhere far away.... In just 3-4 years. When for the time are flying, vagabond, alluvial clouds stayed ? They will find a place to shower their empathy.
The day when accumulated capital of emotions, memories, the binded way will become unbearable...
When the heart will get tired by frequent acts of being rebel.
That day , on an unknown level it will rain to compromise with that sole desire left to be fulfilled.
That day ,the real personality must die in the game hosted by the nature.
Those murmuring clouds , somewhere far away must have permeated the earth with their drops getting bound but devotedly.
But that story???
What about that....???
Stories will remain imprisoned for centuries in that vortex...
Waiting for the clouds which will never return.
Clouds which got settled somewhere else...
Forever and ever....
Read 'Those Stains'
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