My Memoirs – Page 365, Vol#.6, Dec 31’2016 ((c) John Smith; Best selling author of romantic novels)
(Disclaimer: Painting is used from one of the Russian still life painters, sourced from Google).
I have been waiting; waiting for my unknown and mysterious muse, one who has inspired me, ever since I can remember or care to remember or to the extent that my faculties can stretch to!
I have looked into the classics, I have read the banal. In my 6×8 ft study, I have not left any book un-turned, I have ruffled the pages and scanned through each book. The space of my study is constrained, but the books and other objects in the room have enabled me to create a seamless and limitless room of requirements in my mind, where I am only restrained by my own thoughts and gut feelings. I have looked for inspiration through other channels too, all in the vain attempt to find some or the other way to finally find a way to meet her. Well, suffice it to say that my labors have not all been laid to waste, since I feel that I have learnt much and expanded the boundaries of my mind, which exposure to varied works by the masters normally brings in. But then I am digressing!
I have religiously changed the flowers in the vase every single day in my study, when the sky is a bright orange, as if afire or when the sky is an acute reflection of pending doom with lightnings thrown in for good measure. I have not reined in my imagination and tried all the varieties of flowers which I could get hold off in my small town. Now the flowers have wilted and the sky has bid a remorseful goodbye and lent itself to mediocrity devoid of any colors.
All the books have been re-read and then read some more to no effect. The small pints on the windowsill have somehow managed to survive! The tree branch right outside my small window is bereft of any living leaves and to think of it, it is still only late summer! Those few fruits you see on the table, are a result of constant and unerring dedication of my maid, who has made it her mission to nurse my health back to one marked by florid cheeks.
“Hope” being a strong antidote which it is, is nothing short of “holy grail” for souls like me who have managed to wander so far from the path, the path the Lord had ordained for us!
I on my part, sound to be still hopeful, eh? Come now, do not just discount me as a hopeless romantic yet.
Ok wait, I do not see myself in my room, why is the chair empty?