Writing is Like Dancing for Me

One day a fruit seller while passing through a village enters into an empty street. He stops by under a tree shadow to take some rest. Then after taking some rest and drinking water he starts dancing for himself.

While he is focused dancing, a group of street kids watch him from distance and slowly come closer, sit down quietly and don’t interrupt. When the guy ends his dance, he finds the kids sitting there. He passes them a smile. Children ask him to dance again, but he has to go.

But inside him, he promise that he would come again in the street and dance for himself (and the kids would enjoy too). He irregularly visits the street, sometime once a week, once a month and sometime even after several months.

He’s not coming back to dance because of the children’s amusement but because of himself. He knows he should be doing it regularly.

I am the fruit seller. This blog is the street. Writing is like dancing for me. You’re the kids. Hello kids! I’m in the street again.