Friday, April 02, 2010

Marked

She bends the edges of the day to leave it dog-eared. The act of marking a memory. She has no option but to continue the story. Written more quickly than can be read. There is no time to pause and ponder, to make the tock after the tick wait a little longer.

All she has is this book, bent in places, torn in others; that she closes tightly, lest it fall apart. On days when the story inches through the hours, with nary a tragedy or success, she revisits those pages. Bent at the edges. Left dog-eared.

4 comments:

Nocturne said...

dropped in because i can't stay away - not really - and this one really made it worth it. i can't help but wonder what literature is losing just because you don't get enough time from cricket and quizzing!

Parth said...

@Nocturne: Thank you for stopping by. Literature isn't any poorer. Has it occured to you that if I tried to be more prolific, I wouldn't exactly succeed? :) That being said, I was looking at the statistics of how many posts I did in the earlier years of this blog. The number has dipped alarmingly. Something needs to be done. Keep reminding me of that.

Radha said...

lovely!

Parth said...

@Radha: Thanks!