Why do you try again?
Like a typical scene in a melodramatic scene, I ask my image in the mirror.
"Haven’t you had enough of blogging ? And haven’t you got tired of deleting them? And restarting and re-deleting and re re starting and re re re re...deleting? "
YESSSSSSSSSSS I 'VE GOT TIRED
I wish I could scream.
But it’s late in night and the lady-with-a-sweet-voice living upstairs (will tell about her later) seems to be in deep sleep. And the watchman outside our flats is whistling to say he is still awake.
So considering all these, I could not scream.
Writing a full novel in English is a dream. A dream like that of a child's ambition to touch the skies, while he can’t even make a paper-rock
But dream is a dream. It won’t die until the body dies. So this dream keeps me do the same mistake again and again. And here I am to practice my writing, in English.
I have always been wounded at this and also comparing myself with heavily burnt / scalded Ralph Fiennes, I took this name to my blog.
Ahh.. What a movie...The English Patient... the opening shot itself is a beauty. Shadow of a flying plane, moving over terrains of sand which look like the curves of a woman!!! Will write about the movie sometime.
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