Painting Pains _1

From the master story writer himself, check out this piece from one of my literary blood transfusionists; Santi Femi……Quite Touching!

santiwrites

I am sitting by the window. I am not idle, I am keeping a vigilant watch as the sun, a round thing with an amber glow begins to sink into the darkening sky. It threatens to rain through the darkness that has begun to descend. I share a panoramic view of the landscape from the topmost floor of the building – views of rusty roofs, birds gliding in the sky with strange sounds as they flap their wings and a storm gathering in boughs of cloud. It is such a beautiful evening but in me, beauty is broken for underneath my feet is the picture of a girl ripped into pieces and over my head dangles a noose. The girl whose picture lays in pieces under my feet is the pain in my pride. She is the reason why for the past three weeks I have stayed up late at…

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