Tuesday, October 20, 2009

The Anonymous Artist (3)

The decade that caused her to despair had long since evaporated into the vagueness of days that lose their importance, when the hours that followed enabled her to dissect the ruthless words slapping her face. Each word stuttered alone, losing its vicious coherence, and the coveted illustration that defined an occupation adorned her name in defiance of the monster that ridiculed her intellect.

Even the turquoise eyes had faded into oblivion.

The relics remaining cowered before the conviction that surged through her fascination with the land of contradictory landscapes. They realised that her freedom remained unclassified by their psychological terminology, because of their arrogant failure to understand that natural freedom does not submit to a mediocre authority.

No comments:

Post a Comment