Scribbling:
Tragedy of Wanderer:
“He should have known there is no point of
return anymore. A boat on voyage in sea without any pre-determined destination
urges to remain on loose, ever and forever with a sort of greed, just to keep
sailing through, to float upon. It is like madness of drug-addiction, being in
love, or high on hate, or a desire to kill, there is no cure, one must go one
step further to satisfy himself but alas! Where does that exists, not in
reality for sure, for it asks for some more every time he thought to put an
end, on alcohol or love; it asks to kiss one last time only to fuel the thirst
or dying love, upon hate or temptation to kill; it asks for one more head, some
more blood to quench its thirst.
He often had nightmares of being anchored by
the shores, it made his heart choke. Oh! To be unable to go on voyage anymore,
how worse it must be for all those already anchored by the side. He looked at
them with pity. And felt good over his fluttering sails though winds.
Only if he knew there was a storm coming and
his sails were at great danger to be withered and held down or probably he too
was waiting for storms to come and wrestle with him.”
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