Late night,
Driving home alone,
Mind was somewhere else called garden of realization,
where the girl's thoughts grow.
Thoroughly know that I'm a person who attached to a book as well.
Neither "Old" nor "New"
But a blank book
Day-by-day, I live
Page-by-page, I write
Incompleteness-by-incompleteness, I think
Broken image-by-broken image, I see
Confusion-by-confusion, I'm in
Question-by-question, I ask
Answer?
Is it too early for the answer?
Back to the point!
There's nothing to do with what i write down on a blank book.
not at all
maybe my tiny book is the problem
; my narrow perspective
; my positive and negative bias co-existed.
Question to myself.
.................................................................................
Have I ever read others books carefully?
Or just scattered eyes on and hasty concluded?
Had the rest of my time written self-vision.
................................................................................
Answer,
maybe neither yes nor no.
neither black nor white.
Neither "Old" nor "New"
and no
not present too.
loosely somewhere in between past and future ; i'm hanging on
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