lines starts looking at me, telling me to fill in the blanks, and as the ink sets up, the story begins to be written fast. one by one, as it goes on taking turns, fighting and twisting, it feels the gaps that can, never be filled with the words. moving on careful but free, the movement stops with a dot, and he never knows he is tying a knot, to his soul, tightened and caged. and the people say, what you are doing is totally right. And in this crowd, a MAN, a well known mad man claims that he is wrong in all his roundabouts. he gets shocked at this mad mans words, Me, you are claiming that I am wrong! The mad man, innocent and awake says, yes you and all the idiots around you. Never can he know, what this wise mad man is taking about, again, he starts from the dot, the same lines, the same ink and the same story. he repeats it again and again, a book in every next day, everyone praising him again and again, and he continues doing the same. the colors