At first, I was clueless. But slowly, after reading more and more reviews on books, I started to see a dim light shining from afar. Due to my recently developed interest in Biographies, I first looked into the genre. I've always wanted to read Path to Power and Downing Street Years by Margaret Thatcher, the most powerful and tenacious female public figure in the 20 th century. But I soon came to realize that if I was aiming to find a book with eminent literary features; my chance would be better if I was looking at other genres, because the importance of autobiographies is in their accuracy instead of artistic writing and narration. And I’m not so keen on reading autobiographies of writers. Path to Power, a book I've always longed to read, but it's really difficult to find. Next, I turned to the classics. I'd fell in love with Shakespeare ever since I read Hamlet last fall. It was my first encounter with Shakespeare, and I was sw...
My writing has changed over the past few years. It used to be sensuous, wistful, and almost somnambulatory. Now it’s fragmentary, shot, and shorted. I suppose it’s my mind that’s changed. It’s decayed—collapsed into a splatter of spasmodic cells, sporadically firing at the light of the tangible world. Words awake, from time to time, peeking above the dark foamy sea of consciousness, and dissolve soon afterward. No relations make themselves known.
What kind of a week it was, what kind of a day it was. What kind of a life it is! # Fade out. The pale night hugged me with its cold wet arms. A million arms. One pedestrian. I tried to pronounce my sadness, but there wasn’t any. It was a simple, silent night, in which walked a restless shape. They were all asleep. I watched the last window turned dark and away. But I wasn’t alone. Shadows walked pass me once in awhile. They were lost in the conversation of night also, but they were determined, unlike me. I w...
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