I wish they had warned me:
Of what it takes to live
And leave and yet live.
A thousand paradoxes, a hundred sighs of lament
All down the throat camouflaged by a smile.
A hushed tear here, a defeaning wail there.
A sense of foreboding, a fear of the known,
Of love decaying into musty diary pages
Of dried roses and fresh wounds.
Of little victories and greater losses
I wish I knew it all
"Read between the lines", I heard our professor say. We were in midst of a Victorian text. I looked at her point blank. She had spoken about something which I had no clue about. "Ma'am, would you please elaborate? ", I tried framing this sentence in my mind but my introverted self overpowered my inquisitive soul like everytime. I hopelessly waited for an explanation. Ma'am started explaining about how beyond the surface meaning of any written text, there lay a wide plethora of meaning which wasn't explicitly stated. She talked about finding a void between the written words and our imagination, that void which shapes our interpretation. That explanation opened doors to my perception of reading a text. It wasn't that I had never considered about the possibilities of meanings that lay coated in words until then, but, what perhaps I lacked was to look for that void where I questioned the layers of meaning, where I put myself in those layers of wo...
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