Friday, August 20, 2010

Untold Stories

The morning sunshine swims seamslessly towards the window, nudges through the window sill and proceeds to tickle my eyes, waking me up.
A group of white birds fly in the sky and then swoop down, like a bunch of falling feathers, as words. I write.
Characters in the story walk out of sentences, drink coffee over a conversation by the beach and return leaving a trail of sand over the keyboard. I barely recognize them now.

One page. And the morning is already ancient.

7 comments:

Freddie said...

Hrd you are off to the office? Power magnate by morning and playwright by evening, i see. Sexy.

p.s: and now about that payrise ;)

Hemamalini said...

:)Ooh , am suitably charmed! also that you found my blog in the first place, aye.

Anu said...

Your posts are blowing me away, babe!!

Hemamalini said...

@Gnu.. *Huggg* Made my day, you.

Ganesh Iyer said...

Hey nice use of words. you can paint a canvas with words! Btw how do i follow this blog?

Anonymous said...

Escher? Or Dali? - this was totally reminiscent of their sketches. :)

Hemamalini said...

@Ganesh.. Thank you :-) follow- don't know!!

@Jayen.. Hmmm, don't really follow either of their work. Shall take it as a compliment then :)