Once upon a time, there was an old man. There was a time when he wasn't that old. The story starts there and not now. One day the young old man was walking down a street with no name. The people he met were strangers. He was a stranger too, for them. He was hungry and didn't know where he was going. But he trundled on. Wait a second. He can't trundle as he wan't that old. So he just carried on. On that fateful day he met a woman. She was the queen of the street. She offered him an apple. He was thankful to her for that apple. As he took the apple and bit it, the world changed around him. He was now Adam and it was Eve who gave him the apple, not Satan. No this story doesn't make sense. Looks like we have a long way to go. So let's meet again here on this nameless street when we are old enough to understand why Eve made Adam bite the apple.
I have to write. Those were the words that escaped the dying man's lips. He was found lying unconscious near a mountain of blank paper. His autopsy revealed over exhaustion as the reason. But what did he want to write so badly that it killed him, no one knows. The task was designated to the junior cop who was part of the investigation team. Let's call him Namura. So here we are with Namura in a room with the mountain of blank paper. He is awed as to why should there be so many papers near a dying man. He picks a sheet on the top. He studies it. It's as blank as blank papers can be. No pencil or pen has violated its virgin whiteness. Namura thinks of the white bed sheets back home. He is tired. All he wants is to crash on his bed. He feels angry about the whole situation. Here I am, staring at a blank piece of paper, wondering why someone who wanted to write so badly didn't write a single word, while the whole world is sleeping on their comfy beds. He wanted to tear the ...
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