The first paragraph, a couple more on their way out of the processing plant of my mind.
To them who've endeavoured into the depths of love, into the tiniest affairs of it, have I written this, to those that quench their thirst from the fountain of youth that is love and on whose dinner table dines the embodiment of Beauty daily at night, and to them who can barely spend a waking moment, a sleeping moment, a tiny strand of the fabrics of life without their princes and princesses, without their love and indulgence, I pen this. I tell a tale- an historical fiction, if you would- as simple and as mysterious as shadows, as beautiful and brief as dawn. Once, I loved. I retell the story as dishonestly as suits my fancy: altered, modified, and enhanced, as to retell the story of none but imaginary beings thought up in a whim of imagination. This pure imagination I attempt to emblazon with the handiest tools man ever wrought--paper and pen. Remember, though, as you, wondering, journey through my blessèd fabrication, that it has metamorphosed from utter and rustic reality.
It'll be done sooner or later, my beloved. Keep reading, and I'll keep writing.
Adonis
wafaa said...
take well care of that "proccessing plant of ur mind".. it's a valuable treasure...
waiting for the other "couple" paragraphs....
keep ur pen busy.. heh..