Thoughts just streamed in like the cool breeze through a half open window. He wanted to be a big name in publishing. But his tales didn't really make it in a world brimming with stories. They just blended in with the rest. Only he could recognize them in a crowd. For others they were just like any other story. Some took them home, some didn't. They just stood there braving the odds for a random stranger to delve deeper into their souls. At times he also used to wonder whether he himself was someone else's story.
All the rants and raves from a brain that has endured decades of anthropological abuse.