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Empty wall or is it? - Part III

Part I
Part II

Long hairs. The locks having curls with blacks and browns, forming waves which gradually ends on her face, trying to hide the mysterious mascara laden eye as if a curtain hiding a door locked from inside. A faint smile, a small parting of her lips, as if the very door trying hard not to open itself in fear of showing the insider the secret garden just outside of it.

It was hers. The blog. And there I was. The insider, waiting for her to reveal herself, to reveal her story. Her secret garden.

There were poems. There were short stories. There were pictures of the world around her. But what I was searching for was the begining of her blog. The first blog post of hers.

I scrolled down till my cursor hovered over the link of her first post.

The monster
Dear blog,

I don't know the correct way to address you. But just like the way I used to write diaries, which I have abandoned a thousand of times, I would like to address you the same way.

Why blogging? 

Because I want to be hea…

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