His back rested against the window sill, as he stared at the city beneath. Neel watched the evening traffic move slowly. Strangely, patient and calm. The swarm of people walked briskly towards the comfort of their homes, exhausted and weary after a long day's work. He shifted his gaze towards the sky to observe the rapidly falling dusk and the moon which revealed itself far into the horizon. Neel Damian, again, looked at the city, with contempt and disdain openly evident in his deep blue eyes. He felt pity for the people walking below and the sky above, for, they were all slaves to conformity and routine. Clumsily picking up his cigar, Neel let out a few puffs and watched the smoke disappear into the city. Far away, mixing with the wind and flying out of his sight. Seeing his reflection in the glass of the window, he reached out his hand to his unreal self. He could not, of course, for he felt only the glass and not the warmth of his flesh. He smiled, for he was wrong. Then, Neel slowly broke into a gentle laughter while retiring to his study table and pulled out a notebook. His pen moved freely in his hand, without inhibitions , pouring magic on the paper. He laughed again, for he was longer wrong. And the words which he wrote were identical to pearls.
Neel Damian wrote for the entire night.
