Discover Sights - Explore Your Mind

The White Room


I was connecting the dots, comfortably seated, with the paper on my lap, when my mother came into my room.

‘Dinner is ready, dear.’

And then she left, and I remembered that she is dead. Mama, you are dead for thirty years.

I was connecting the dots on the paper, drawing lines. They ran smoothly from one dot to another, and I was old, I was very old. I have connected so many dots.

Leave a reply

Your email address will not be published.

You may use these HTML tags and attributes:

<a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>