So what do you write when you really don’t feel like writing and the only reason you are doing it is because of that addictive tik-a-tik-a sound your crispy keyboard makes?
I really ought to use full stops in the middle. Sentences. too. long!
Any who, i finally found this book i had been looking for. The Deeper Meaning of Liff by Douglas Adams and John Lloyd. I used to have it on my book shelf, until one day it mysteriously disappeared. Then it reappeared 4 years later under a friend’s flower-pot. ‘What the hell Sabeen! you had it all this time!??’
‘Yeh…! Doesn’t it look so pretty in my room?’
No.
Anyway, its back where it belongs, balancing the short leg of my dining table. Balance has been restored to the universe once again!
Hurrah!
The End.
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The book was under a flower pot? is the book going to sprout little flowers out of its cover now? Is there a new book under that flower pot? Did Charlie Chaplin have grey hair in his mustache that we could not see in black and white?
Can I borrow the book to keep it under something and show the world I read books a bit too much?