As I thump my keyboard, in an endeavour to inscribe my incoherent ruminations of the day, I convey my gratitude to you for being there for me. You have been one of my saviours in this unremitting depression. Thanks for imbuing me with your words of wisdom. It has become a therapeutic practice. You have given me a glimmer of purpose in a once abject and aimless life.
The story is still in abeyance. I haven’t found my ambience congenial enough to ruminate over its structure, notwithstanding the fact that I’d had my opportunity, to ensconce myself to a propitious milieu, which I frittered away. Furthermore, the frequent disruptions of power and the inexorable bouts of melancholy have encumbered my free flow of thoughts.
I search for a name every morning: the missives enliven my day.
I hope that normalcy will return to our lives, and I can wend myself to a world where dreams are not only born but are also fulfilled.
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