A Chapter for the eccentrics

Like an innate instinct, I could feasibly perceive every shadow waxing before any creature; perhaps, dusk and gloom were more prominent to me than golden fumes. That art, an inner shrine — camouflaged by my own disguise which I insidiously worshiped and adored; as if, art was an interior hobby that had to be tucked away aggressively from earthly charms. Imagine, if everyone had wielded a foreign tongue. It was only so as the eminent living rose proudly among-st the shining stars; how intimidating for beggared  beings. We deserved better.

Luckily, I'm not so inept as I think I am; I have more in store for the sorry world. More than once have I been dissipated to my works; Tour de force, perchance, I deserve a blameless accession to the throne of eccentrics. As ludicrous as it is, I demand the foreign crown.

I confess my aloof and outspoken modesty served me justice among the verbal lingoes. Only the odd ones could earnestly respect a noble crow from a pretentious dove. As little to no friends, nothing was more safer than silent reading and despite my hallowed inferiority in the world of literature, I've seized my books as precious as an idolized companion. There was never anything greater than reading.


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