ephemeral

There lay Fayyad, waiting albeit naively to receive inspiration from God as he tried to make something out of that blank canvas staring at his soul with 'afsos'. He compared himself to God who made us from nothing mere clay.

He was feeling rather blasphemous; his thoughts running astray, but he couldn't bring himself to focusing on the job at hand. He had to finish the painting, but was suffering from acute creative constipation. Just as he had given hope and was about to call it a night he heard a knock

He froze. It was 4 a.m. and he was at his workshop, no one knew where it was as he couldn't stand being interrupted while he was working.

The knocking grew loudly as he slowly moved towards the door. He could see the light rays beaming from beneath the door but there was no shadow, yet the knocking grew louder.

louder and louder as he cautiously paced himself towards the door. as he slowly turned the door handle he prayed to God for his safety and fell ashamed of his blasphemy just a few minutes ago.

he opened the door, his pupils constricting to the harsh light, he saw it floating mid air.

there it was, that god damn orange balloon

Edward Maya - This is my life