Write till your hearts content

antique-desk

 

Words pull me.

Night and day.

Sometimes i cannot stop thinking about it.

And other times i can’t start thinking about it.

Queer. But once i decide to start writing about something i am afraid i won’t stop.

 

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It sits there silently calling me. It doesnt let me study. My wonderful table. My wonderful pen.

And i stare at my work realising i can’t resist the call anymore.

I get up and rush towards it and just start writing.

Time runs.

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I wake up in the morning.

I haven’t had the faintest idea when i drowsed off , i haven’t had a proper sleep but then i know my hearts full.

 

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