It usually happens...hidden in the glamorous folds of happiness, sits the pain of unknown...quietly thriving on the hollow smiles, made-up conversations and bleak yet intentional innocence. But there is one thread that binds it all together..a thread not so feeble...a thread of grief, of fear and of joy..of beginnings and of endings. It is contradictory isn't it...but is it?

The thread of stories, weaved like delicate lace, like freshly settled dew...compelling. Some speak of stories which made them what they are, some...of what they are not because of the stories never happened....& blessed are the storytellers, the ones with unspeakable power...intense and interesting to play God...thrilling yet dangerous but very satisfactory...

it is interesting to notice how some glittery boxes of emotions can be used, it is all at the disposal of the some strings when pulled bring the deepest, darkest hidden memories to shore and how some can make you weave the dreams beyond compare...

They knit a cocoon for you...your protector, sheltering you from those hidden folds...but what is to notice is...these threads strengthen, gain power when they are retold and the faith in them fosters the hope or is completely at the discretion of storyteller...the creator...the God!


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