The pen moved over the paper but no words appeared, the ink had dried up. Looking around to refill, I nudged the inkbottle down the table. Shattering glass halted my attempts to scribble, the quill had been screeching for some time instead of gliding over the pages.
I picked up my painting brush and easel…
Is there slight light?
P.S.: After multiple aborted attempts to writing I am back to posting photographs 
Hopefully the inkbottle’s order gets delievered soon.
I write! Topic does not matter, can be my life, or my travels, or any match I saw, or the Hyderabadi life, or reminiscing about Raipur, or penning Short Stories & 55s.
Brickbats & Bouquets