Corridors were empty; thirsty for footsteps and muffled
gossips. Standing there at the edge of the entrance and basking under the September
sun…Summer has come and passed; The
innocent can never last…
The attendant at the far end of the corner was busy, loudly
slurping his tea as the sound echoed. Echo
from Ekho, a beautiful nymph which was cursed by the gods so that she could
only repeat what others say as a punishment for distracting others with her
beautiful voice. A faint smile passed through. These anecdotes gave him
food to gloat about. Maybe all that haphazard reading may not be as useless as
he thought it would be. He had never been a cohesive reader; started three or
four books at a time and only few books getting their last page feel the human
touch. Perhaps someday a pattern would
emerge from all the chaos.
Then he would stand in a corner and savor the moment as all
the pieces come together in a brilliant fashion. Just like at the end of a
great book which takes eons to end as it suffers the fate of others books like
it which are beautifully penned down.
There is more to this world than what just meets the eye; the
crispness of lies still haunted the mind…drenched in my pain again…Perhaps that euphoric feeling had the ability to make you disregard the byzantine design and you
never realized that you were protagonist in a play whose script was never handed
over to you. The spotlight made sure that you remain blinded and oblivious. One
could sense the audience but it was modeled as paranoia. There might be
something going backstage as well. They could all be in cahoots or it could
have been just him.
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