It is remotely funny.
It is like the best friend that you never saw. It isn’t cute, but is extremely beautiful.
When it moves, it is like a flamethrower shoveled right into your skin.
When it works, it is like a magic wand, which casts a spell on you and freezes you in bedazzlement.
When it whispers, it is like a ballerina who tiptoes in a nail-bitingly crisp, feather touch
It is like a story that you want to read over and over again. A story that does not feel the need to pretend; or a prose, that stuns you with its voluptuous complexities, trapping you into a world you could never have imagined.
It is like a song which doesn’t end. It has a voice that doesn’t change.
It is like a revolving door of a house that keeps on opening and closing in perpetual déjà vu – a house that you want to invade, and investigate.
It is like fiction, which keeps unwinding frivolously at a breakneck speed as you rambunctiously try to join the dots.
And just when you are close to deciphering it, it becomes a maze that changes its escape route and you understand that it is but a vicious cycle.
That is when you realize that you aren’t the solver. You are the problem.
It is your mind; and it’s overpowering you, one moment at a time.