i wake up one morning and see a pile of things:
the xerox copy of my french note, my so-called
diary which i have not touched for one whole year,
a butterfly look-like blue hair clip with white polka dots,
a book called 'great political thinkers:east and west' with a
dark blue cover, electronic wires, a greyish sky through the window
and a chair wooden chair right in front of me.All in one trapezium box.

Memories gushes down,a timeline since
my birth rather. I remember the names
of all the persons i met,all the people
who i have acquinted with in my
life for some or the other
reasons, some i hate,
some i love.
My childhood friends,
high school friends, college
friends, all are in the collage of my 

white life. My blood relations,  who i
haven't even heard of, but related somehow
and often wonder who all are related to me. I
get up and sit looking straight and feel the monotonous
blue breeze rising up from the blanket twisting and wriggling.
i feel nothing. i feel absence of something, absence of everything.
i feel bored, i feel sleepy, i feel like yawning. Apathy, boredom, anxiety, ennui, suicide.