Going through the huge archives collected from time immemorial comes the fact that some of the poetry from high school seems to have survived my burning ritual. I laughed out loud at it and wondered how I was stupid about writing these things at all. Everything looks stupid in hindsight. At the time I wrote it, I probably gave it the attention that an engineer gives his space crafts with multiple last minute checks.
The book which I am penning now has a full outline ready. It needs flesh and blood and that will probably start tomorrow.
Parallel Spirals 
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