As she dazed into those open spaces, where human minds seldom visit, she quickly formulated questions of things given and things acquired. Clearly, there was enough disintegration between the two, and if not always, one must at least sometimes appreciate the care of the giver and the callousness of the taker.
As instances were noted down, and quietly acknowledged, lessons were taught to self.
As lessons had life altering implications, and must be recalled in life more than once, she did realise that jotting them down in a handbook would perhaps induce likeness, in every sense.
Thus, notes were made.
But lessons were never learnt.
Years later, when questions would be reiterated over tears of solitude, and when the need for complacence and company would be intensely magnified, notes would never be consulted. Rather, pain shall be nurtured and cried over.
Perhaps, she now rues, it was meant to work like that.
Chapter Twelve - Afterdeath
18 hours ago