The pregnant silence between people can be more painful than the pains of labor. One is laden with the the burden of the memories of the past. Suddenly, all those lighter moments lose their buoyant spirit and sink to be drowned by heavy emotions. Every spoken word mocks at the heart and every unspoken word gnaws at it. The ego's selfish need to maintain societal riches wilfully betrays the alter ego.
Why does a poignant piece of writing always have to emerge out of a deeper sense of hurt?
