The writer with the unpronounceable name peered at me from the pages. I guess he was also in a similar situation as mine. My name would've been difficult for his foreign tongue to master. Since he had no option of seeing me, I guess he was relieved on that front. But then what am I talking about? How can we see one another through a book? Or for that matter any piece of communication? Can you see me? Do you know who I am? Before you read on, try imagining who I am. What I do for a living. Where do I live. In fact, anything and everything about me that might catch your fancy. In the meantime, I will do the same about you.
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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