Photo Credits : WhileSippingCoffee
Edited by : WhileSippingCoffee
Location : Author's Apartment
Special Thanks To Anshuman Bhandari for striking off the conversation
In an inquisitive tone, he asked her, "You haven't been writing lately, right?" "Hmm", came the reply. As if to avoid sounding rude, she quickly added, "Yeah, its been a while." And then, to further add to it rather humorously, she continued, "Maybe I've got to write about - not being able to write." They both laughed heartily and waved each other a goodbye.
That night, she lay in bed, motionless, staring blankly at the white ceiling above. It looked like a blank sheet of paper; like the stark white drafting screen of her laptop, waiting eagerly to be smeared with the words she held on to in her heart. Where had all those letters gone? Why couldn't she construct a goddam simple sentence!
Pulling back her head with one long breath, she eased out the stiffness from her neck. As the movement formed a graceful arch below her chin, her eyes traced the silhouettes of the origami butterflies hanging at her window sill. They held all the answers to her questions.
One word - metamorphosis. She felt herself wrapped up in a cocoon - in a dormant, static state.
A state where you take a backseat and let life happen to you.
Like a caterpillar evolving into the chrysallis - on the outside it seems as if everything has come to a standstill, but its the inside where most of the action takes place.
Rapid changes, intense action - all on their way to being absorbed into her. After all, you can only squeeze out that much amount of words on paper, as to the amount which you have buried inside of you.
She drifted into a deep sleep and remarkable transformations began. Soft folded wings, that first appear on the butterfly developed into her slender long fingers. And it was only a matter of time before the butterfly broke free, that it pumped blood into its newly developed wings, rushing through her finger tips and flooding the blank pages with her words.
A butterfly masters the art of flying within a short span of three to four hours, but before that it must rest. She must rest. Make sense of whats happening to it, absorb it, feel it, let her fingers be tightly cocooned, before she could release herself completely to words.
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