there is little bit for you..still left inside..
as memories unfold...to the distance far..
you walk down the strings to my heart..
the song comes out…and the music through
a pain rekindled..I sing for you..
It’s been some time since my close friends have been asking but not until last winter could I really give any serious thought to it. I have been into some kind of trance in which the daily life kept passing by, with several subtle hints that the time has arrived, to write it or at least attempt it.
Impressionist is not my story. This is story of some of my near and dear ones, and of those events that have made an impact on my way of seeing things. This is also the story of all those who brave the inner loneliness while living a worthwhile life; of those who love someone knowing it will never come back; ever forgiven someone and know that it remains the final form of love.
(This story will have 18 sections and I will try to complete all in a year or year and half; don’t intend to rush it as I must honor my other responsibilities.
I will write all the sections first as posts in my blogsite (aforgottenpage.blogspot.com). After receiving responses to the post, I will further prune the section and will take out/ change the names of characters, wherever necessary.)