There has been a certain phenomenon in my life which i have aptly titled, "blankness."
I can not be sure when this has exactly started. Or maybe the right word would be, enveloped me.
As it turns out, this "blankness" is not offset by a series of, say, literary pieces i might have written that i would have hoped to add to my list of reading materials. or poetry books perhaps that i would have finished reading. reading you see, would add to my world of worlds, a vehicle to unknown passages that i would hope to pass through even in words. it's a mind-travel that transc ends thoughts or the extent to which thoughts may take me. it might be cathartic reading (if there is such a term).
But, as it turns out, I have