I found this in a round of spring-cleaning, scribbled on a sheet of foolscap paper and dated 20 February 2002. This is from my character-building days as a back-bencher, doodling and scribbling away my time. All of us (at least the non-achiever types like me) had our own versions of ‘The Wall’; this one is mine. I know it’s on the verbose side, but go easy on me, I was younger, I was learning to write and what the heck..I was bored. πŸ™‚

Fresh sheet of paper – hairthin lines stretching across in severe uniformity
It begins at my fingertips
That quiver…the slightest tremor
Oh, that urge to reach out and touch the untouched
and leave my imprint on it.

I remember this from three
the tempting wall, the gleaming new desk
the forbidden blackboard…and my own face
Mud and crayongs and food and chalk and graphite and ink

Sophistication came with age
Now I sully sheets of paper with ink
and still my own face with pigmented chemicals
Not forgetting those camouflaged moments…
…a footprint on a clean sidewalk or a freshly washed floor
scratches on the wall

Ah, that irresistible urge,
The allure…the undeniable craving
to smear the uniform
to taint the pure
to colour the plain
to fill the space with motions of me…

In the violent outfling of my arms to disturb the air – I call it dance
The soaring crescendos of vibrating sound waves
The scratches of my stylus on this carte blanc
I succumb to the urge
give in to the temptation – from white flow the colours
I reach out and create…

I am inspired.

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