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Sunday 29 August 2010

Pure Irony

Alone in the house, walk into a room,


a table with a writing pad on it; a pen lying across.


the clean, crisp page – untouched; blank and spotless – inviting.


the heart craves expression – pristine and unrestrained;


handicapped by form though, expression fails the heart upon a single touch.




Shamanth.

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