BOOK OF THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER 1: Here Again A decision to endure to see progress is patience. Confusing curiosity crept as chatter hums linger in my ear. What kind of theme scatters their words? Professor Lim emerged holding history literature books, my favorite essence. Starting with peculiar news aroused thought of many. I felt a hauling shiver as he (the professor) tells us a haunting accident happened inside the library minutes before I came. The ending of the person is common but the background is traumatic. Finding ways to distract myself, I will focus on publishing projects. Like a poet's hand, my mind conquered many stories but in my own way I was not able to portray any of everything. From the day I start, and week past, three sentenced paragraphs are what I packed. Again a start of determination ends with frustration. The published day came, and I came barely prepared for the past days. I lined myself in the second column to make an appointment. More people arrived and cut in front of me. 10 minutes passed and others cut in. I was mad and confused. Do all these people run errands successfully?? Why do they keep walking in front while I'm firmly standing still in the line I'm in fifty minutes ago? 5:46 pm, I'm feeling drowned, although I'm the only one 2 meters away from the interaction site, the sleepless staff muttered "We are done for the day". Several questions and answers I want for one day. Water fills my eyes. I couldn't bear it inside. This has happened a lot before and it gets me every time. I strolled back carrying a weight in my chest. A strong breezeway blew my work. Two men picked a piece and surprisingly carried all of it along with them. I hid myself in shame. Taking the opposite path letting them trash the papers. Early I brought myself on the book shelves. To ease, to forget and ignore I decided to explore the world of writers. I bought three history based journals. I began expressing imaginations in stories after a journey with famous writers and other writers.I made my way to chapter 23 when I heard "Rjörn Adréne". 1st Men: "Is it truly a piece from the Tragedy Maiden?" 2nd Men: "A work of a diseased feminine sought in this world would be laid below." Is my identity mocked?