This is the first blank page of a 365 page book, so you better write a good one. Or better yet, just drop your pen. Throw the pages into the trashcan, and forget you even had them. Now wait. Itll take some time, but youll see it soon enough; that heap of paper will grow stories everyday, garbage all of them. One page will turn black with the smoke of a fire breathed out by a bomb-blast in someplace youll struggle to remember. Another page will color itself red with the blood of martyrs and murderers alike. Yet another will be perforated by gaping holes like gunshot wounds. Therell be pages that stink of corruption and commonplace apathy. Words will find their way on them too, some spiteful and others pretend-good. Some of the sheets will be warm, like just out of an over-worked photocopy machine, and theyll burn themselves to ash, because all your stories are combustible. Misfortunes will slither in without your notice and write rants for you. Little loves will try to write poems, and heartbreaks will shred them to smithereens. Lost time from days un-momentously flowing into weeks and months will be scarred by dateless scribbles. And in all this, you will not need to lift a finger, but only to retrieve the sheets at the end of every year and go through them, carefully. Itll not make sense. so youll empty the trashcan to feed the earth, promising yourself to write a good story next year. But next year, youll forget all the same.
Posted on: Fri, 02 Jan 2015 12:55:01 +0000
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