jonwong

love like you've never been hurt before

The fool doth think he is wise,
but the wise man knows himself to be a fool
william shakespeare

All the world's a stage,

 And all the men and women merely players;

 They have their exits and their entrances,

 And one man in his time plays many parts,

His acts being seven ages.
william shakespeare

But now I have come to believe
that the whole world is an enigma,
a harmless enigma that is made terrible
by our own mad attempt to interpret it
as though it had an underlying truth.
umberto eco

Thursday, January 01, 2009

The carefully written words reached the end of the papyrus paper and the author let out a soft sigh.
He had written many words, he had written tears, laughter, hurt, scars, growth, treacherous pitfalls and love.
It had been a good chapter, as a chapter should be.
A long, hard, painful and learning chapter.

He gathered them tenderly in his smooth hands and propped them up onto the mahogany table to align them.
It was a large stack of paper, each flimsy sheet carefully bound within the leather casing, adding to the historic 17 earlier chapters.
Then he reached for the new pieces of paper, untainted and waiting for the ink.
Perhaps these would hold a better story.

2:32 AM

Exeunt.

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