To those who Wander

 Don't you just love it when the singular physical distinguishable trait a male lead has is his 'brooding not like other guys personality'? Or when the a female lead is described as: brown hair and Asian. Could you be a bit more basic? This description would have been fine, had the woman in question not been the main character of the book. I mean, I have even read a book where the author compared the female lead to Jessica Rabbit for her curvy body, and gave no other details about her whatsoever. I mean why would I want to know that her hair is actually straight when I can spend an year and a half thinking it is curly? And what is it about all the character descriptions in modern romance book being EXACTLY THE SAME? It's like I am reading a google form, not a novel. 1. Hair Color - Raven Black 2. Eye Color - Brown with golden flecks 3. Patek Phillipe Watch (for males): Yes __     No__ 4. Height - 6.7 feet Take a look at this gem: The beautiful redhead has been a...

Says the rock:  Time is a tempest wind that gushes through the trees, flooding the river, destroying the villages. It doesn't stop for the people trying to escape, for the dogs that were tied to the poles, for me nor for you. But the birds don't try to stop it, they fly with it. Harnessing the winds with their wings, gracing the skies with their flight. The rocks don't stop the winds either, they stand their ground, taking every slash, every whip and every swing of the objects the wind carries with it. You are a bird, I am a rock. The tempest winds of time have destroyed both our villages. You fly high up in the sky, away from all the wreckage. You go wherever the winds take you. You see it all, the rivers, the mountains, the stars that shine in the night which are not visible from below the clouds. You took flight, like you always were supposed to. But you are blind to the call of your dog tied to the pole. Of the earthen pot on the shelf in your home. The sweet cream of m...

 The usual honking of cars does not reach my ears as I lay awake in my bed. A stillness hangs in the air, a silence surrounds the streets. The air seems somewhat fresher, blowing through the window the maid just threw open. I slowly reach for my glasses. Now the world is truly awake, except not in its usual way. The annoying sound of vehicles is replaced by gleeful shouts of children. The usual chittering of birds is absent. Cold air whooshes through the window, chilling me to my bones even underneath the thick, woolen blanket. A smile parts my lips as I slowly get up from the bed and walk towards the window. The sky is gray as an old silver coin. Stars in the form of delicate snowflakes gently fall on the ground. The grass, a bright green yesterday, is covered by a snow white blanket. The neighbor's children build a lopsided snowman in their yard. Their parents are close, engaging in an intense snowball fight. The father tackles the mother to the ground, then bombards her with an ...