A blot on a paper does not rest at a spot. It spreads slowly buy surely, arching one leg forward followed by another and another; it seems to never stop unless it dries. By that time, it has left an impression. The blot remains for as long as the paper exists. Words are nothing but... Continue Reading →
Secret
Still in the night, Greetings light; From a distance, Defying any existence; Hushed whispers, Ruffling their whiskers; Floweth like a faucet, We call it a secret.