Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Untitled #7

(WC)

I am staring at her countenance. She breaths slow. A tuft of hair graces her forehead. Droplets appear. The fan has stopped.

What if I have started liking this stagnation? The baskets and bookshelves are fixed in a stupor. They do not exist, they only cast shadows. They are alive in the shimmers of the candle. And the moonbeams. A butterfly came dancing in search of light. The light which falls on the upper arch of her lips. The lips did not cast shadow. They were silent. I am not even concerned about her breathing. 


It came to an end at three.


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Exercise. Barest adjectives and adverbs. 9-11

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