There was hardly anybody I wanted to talk to.
Should I rather talk to myself? I ventured into the corridor. I had left my slippers behind and I could feel the cold floor underneath. I was a little lost as always and had no idea where my feet were taking me.
I was tip-toeing quite confidently into the heart of the night until I don’t know what stopped me.
Holy Shit!
I catch him painting…!
And when I look at his canvas…my eyelids refuse to flap.
The victim of his passion leaves me awestruck, gaping for breath.
I never cared to know, but am I like this ethereal?
Is it bits of me that he has scattered with the paint on his canvas, or something in me that is known only to him?
Hell! She exudes energy…
PS: Aman, this one's for you! LoL
7 comments:
well..only a painter knws what he wants to put on the canvas..no one else in the world can imagine the same thing :)...awesome sketch
the sketch is very cool...and contains a lot of modes of a singular expression...
:)
First of all: Thank you!
This was a like treat reading it!
I could see it, and feel it, the whole thing!
Good work...;)
I love it when u write like this!
Thtz a fab piece of work!
@ maverick & d sinner
the sketch says almost everything...:D
@ Aman
thanx...;)
@ mez
feels gud 2 hear dat...:)
hey..
that was a gr8 piece..
wow.............u again left me dumbstruck. am visitin ur blog aftr looooooooooooooooooooooong & trust me, each of ur pieces hv held my breath. well...dat's a lot of breaths held & i shd hv been dead by nw! :P
in how many oder wrds can i tell u dat u r God-gifted to be able 2 write so beautifully........
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