Well , evening is so pretty , a little light of day
left and
a cup of coffee on my terrace , a fiction book in my hand ,thinking of
December
and the orange sky , as if the sun has been melted all over the vault ,
lovely
kites of various colors ,solitude , writings and me ,what else ? Well no
one
can see anything else except it. Literature, a subject, I always loved
since
childhood, deeply trying to understand it in teenage and hope to
stay with it forever. It’s so strange, happiness is just like a dot in the
circle of life but still all of us run after this even till the end of the life,
that’s called human nature. I see so many people around myself , none of them
could ever be my friend , I am a good friend for them but they aren’t mine, well , I always try to hide this from
them. I am knowing myself , it’s true that I am a prisoner of solitude and it
won’t release me ever, I have realized today and even in my future I will
always be like this and it won’t be changed. I am addicted to be alone and
dream of my solitary byway. Sometimes I wonder what gives me pleasure and the
answer was only my pen and the blank sheet where I could fill up my words and
sometimes I feel getting absorbed in it, I wish to be soaked forever in it and
never come out ever. I recently realized I was born in winter and I love winter
and I am a November born and I am glad it’s the month of winter, Christmas is
one of my favorite festival because it’s in December and feel like spending it
in a very gorgeous place.
I am a literature girl, I am completely absorbed in it, and
when it comes to something mechanical, I don’t remember anything! The polar
express is my favorite movie because I see the world as the very way this movie
is. I dream to count the how many stars are there in the sky, dream to hold the
water in hands, dream to fly without wings, seems impossible, right? Staying in
my world gives me pleasure like a bird in her nest.
If ever I think about my aim, then generally so-called
matters comes in mind, but I am a traveler, the traveler of the extreme
solitary byway which is endless, which would be only applicable for me and no
one else would be there, there is no place for anyone else except the birds,
the trees, the winter, the solitude and my lovely white flowers.
I pray to god ,if ever there is a second life ,make me literature lover as I am today ,to make me the traveler of the solitary ways !
