#29 The Last Yawn

In my childhood, friendships meant and felt different. There was innocence and simplicity. Emotions flowed. There was love and that was well defined. Love among friends, love for the friendship between them, love for the awesome and happy times spent together. And when I think about it, I closed my eyes and I now find myself in a state I can’t put together.

#28 Rusted Ink

I start with the desk and there are quite a lot of things lying here and there. There is this bottle of ink from Chelpark that hasn’t been used for ages, accompanied by a few Hero fountain pens competing alongside the only Parker I have. There was a Waterman somewhere there but I cannot find it now. I pull up my drawer and stash them back in it when my gaze fell upon that diary. I paused for a moment and pulled it out form the drawer. It was a year old and was filled with all the scribbles and notes I had taken while experiment with my madness.