A still sound. A flux less movement. A flurry of invisible. A storm in the blink of an eye. Colourless rainbow. Apocalyptic hopes.
The way the words paint those vivid images with its rich tapestry - the warps and wefts of words and the silent design of unsaid words.
That world is magic, that creation is fantastic, that imagery is vivid.
Sometimes, you feel like a small butterfly, crimson wings standing on the edges of those flower words, drinking nectar from its depth and getting heady...You transform into those inanimate and animate objects that is being described...
Its sheer magic!
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