dear diary...

on a rainy afternoon

sitting in front of my desk, i stare blankly at the translated text of The Arabian Nights next to an endless to-do list.

the blinds seem to have lowered by themselves. i always keep them up in the afternoons.

it’s the sky, like a sheet of chromatographic paper dipped in black paint. the black seeps through and layers of grey spreads till the paper is white no longer.

enclosed in an air-condition cubicle, i hear the winds whistle as they perforate the gaps beneath the windows, sweeping in the revitalising smell of petrichor.

the lazy hamsters adjusted their positions, still engrossed in their mid-afternoon trance.



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