..I felt that I would go inside my room,close all the doors and windows to the outer world.I would sit in a corner and sulk with blackened eyes of sorrow. My eyes will stay awake, unblinking and the dark spot around it will make it look like the flaming eyes of a panther in a dark burns burns inside and outside.I would wear the black robe of a monk to observe my days of mourning.Then I also thought that maybe I would start painting my grief.An unconscious,soundless seething grief that had swept up from my feet to all over my body.It had no face, no sensation no bodily manifest..but it was just there all over me like that black dress.I would dance grotesquely in front of a mirror with my black robes on.I would express emotions and contort my face like savages to show myself that I was in pain.I would create this grand spectacle of my sorrow for myself and I would then paint all of those.With most cruel and vile manner I would whip the canvas with colours and paint the pictures of horror,pain and suffering in a dark isolated corner.Disgusting, disfigured, twisted faces..charred with dolour.



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