The grasshopper looked at the man pounding away at the keys in disdain. What's that fool doing staying awake late in to the night and fiddling with something that doesn't yield him any food? In grasshopper parlance it was sacrilege. In grasshopper land time was well spent procreating, hopping, singing, chewing tender leaves, hopping, moulting, laying eggs, excreting, contemplating the next hop and a million other grasshopperish activities. The grasshopper hopped a little closer to the man. Now he could see what he was doing. This damn guy was writing about grasshoppers! What does he know about us? How dare he write about us? The grasshopper went hopping mad.
He couldn't keep count of the days or nights as he was always surrounded by darkness. No he wasn't blind nor did someone blindfold him. He fell in to a deep dark hole that's all. He was rushing to catch the last train home. Since it was getting late he decided to take the shortcut. Before he fell, all that he saw was a lamppost by the tracks. The impact of the fall switched off the lights in his brain. When he recovered, it was dark. He tried to feel his way around. But to his surprise all that he could feel was the darkness around him. It was as if he was encased in a thick gooey dark liquid. It held him tight. It moved with his movements. It felt as if he was part of the liquid. He floated in it. He never felt hungry or cold. In fact he felt comfortable. For the first time, he felt safe. Slowly he began to forget what he was and whom he knew. In this darkness, it was impossible to wrack his brain. Everything was slowly getting shrouded in darkness. Until that day when he ...
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