Pitch Black
So I walk into this room and it is painted in black. All the four walls, written in pitch darkness. For a second, I felt as if I have stepped into the night. But there were no stars or moon inside. Just a charcoal story
So I walk into this room and it is painted in black. All the four walls, written in pitch darkness. For a second, I felt as if I have stepped into the night. But there were no stars or moon inside. Just a charcoal story
I have always had a thing for animation. Good news is that I have ventured into this department as well. I bought myself a good One by Wacom Graphic Tablet and it’s been serving the purpose. So far, so good! If you too have some animation
It was the same routine. Like a daily monotonous job. That part of life we have no control over. And we are forced to sit through it brooding through what our life has become and what would it become. But that unpleasant stream of thoughts
I woke up with a start. Images from my dream, still fresh, wizened gradually like mist, as I came to my senses. “Hadn’t I witnessed an accident? Wasn’t I driving? Where was I?” Those memories began to fade as I looked up at the clock.
I woke up in a box. At once felt the oddity around. Tiny soldiers circled around me. They had spears in their hands. They poked me with it. I responded. Stood when they poked me once. Walked when they did it twice. Sat when they