In the twilight between psychology and mysticism, when an author applies words to translate abstract feeling, his prose-piece appears to be an iceberg, only the tip of it is seen, the remaining enormity submerged in the depth of thoughts and hitherto undiscovered; its condensed structure, if melted in the heat of readers heart, produces not just tears and sweats but molten lava that vaporizes all the strictures of conditions prefixed by a debased social anarchy; an apparently non violent set of words turns into a weapon not only in the hands of its readers or writers, but also in the hands of those who deliberately desired to alter the destiny of mankind.
Posted on: Sat, 22 Nov 2014 09:33:17 +0000
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