I see you with hopeful eyes all along with some fear making its place somewhere between the pupils. I am just at lack of words, entangled amid some invisible strings which obstacle me from moving towards you and simultaneously a great impulse in my veins, pushing me towards you. Everyday, today, I pick up the pen to give you a suitable beginning but a feeling of charlaten arises in me on deciphering more appropriate metaphors and personifications and hence you remain incomplete and unstarted. Not that I'm tired of holding up this routine each day, infact, in this lockdown, I have started loving this but I just want to go further from this. ( caption) 06 July, 2020 Dear Novel I'm Yet To Write, I see you with hopeful eyes all along with some fear making its place somewhere between the pupils. I am just at lack of words, entangled amid some invisible strings which obstacle me from moving towards you and simultaneously a great impulse in my veins, pushing me towards you. Everyday, today, I pick up the pen to give you a suitable beginning but a feeling of charlaten arises in me on deciphering more appropriate metaphors and personifications and
