A writer’s journey.

A writer’s journey.

The fresh breeze coming from the ocean leaves a salty taste on his lips, but it doesn't matter, Arush is already lost in a trance. The water touches his ankle every time a wave pushes them out towards land. He opens his collar button and takes a deep breath in. As he unbuttons his shirt, he can feel the mask of the corporate man fall off. It's the first time in ages that he has come by this lonely part of the shore. He reminisces every happy memory he has here. But one particular memory is very vivid. *** 'How many shapes did you see today?' His sister ran towards him, while he was lying on the warm sand. 'None.' He said, looking accusingly towards the distorted clouds. 'I feel like my imagination has ended, Naina. Why? Why can't I see a shape today!' Arush hears his 8-year-old self crying and an unexpected smile crosses his face. 'Oh, little brother!' He hated being her "little...
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