Sometimes, the words just don’t come. For days, they spin in a spiral that just seems to pull them deeper and deeper under the skin, so that it’s almost painful to wrench them out.

So they lie there, quietly, not doing any harm or good. And over time they are buried under the layers of words that are said, and the heavy sediment of all that is heard. Perhaps they will be fossilised. And who knows, one day an adventurous soul might just stumble across the impressions of the books we could have written – and the people we might have been.


2 responses to “fossils

  1. After reading all your posts and following you since your birth on wordpress, I truly beg to find an incarnatic connotation with you from an earlier life. The closest semblance of mutual consent that I could ever have, has to be with your words penned down in this blog on everything that you write.
    Keep it up, mady

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