As I sit down across my table to pen down an article on "Ink", I wonder what flows directly from my mind to the paper and fills it up with my heart. The blue which provides serenity to my life and I am lost like a shell in an ocean yet emerging in the fond memories of those whose hearts I touched with my creation. I realize "Ink" is the "Impression". Ink is nothing but a recreation of the impressions on our minds flowing through our tears, laughter, pain and passion. It is like a vessel of memories on a paper, a canvas where you paint a picture of your ardor. Be it the desire of first love, the pain of an unexpected failure, the heart wrenching loss of a dear one or a small gift of appreciation, the sweet smile of your crush, the chortles of your gang or the love of a mother; these "Impressions" becomes the "Ink" driving our hands on paper.
While these images are created in our minds, eventually we also end up inkling in the life of others. A small act of love or care, as it is called, binds people in endless chains of memories sometimes making their way in their diaries inked forever.
"Dear Diary, may I never forget this person. Even if I do, keep it hidden till I turn the pages over."
Echoes of our past define the music of our lives forever. As I wander over my collection of books of every genre I've read, not a title but a passion and an impression of a footprint, which galvanized the writer to take on a path resulting in this book still stacked here and everywhere, embossing the minds of millions; the magic of a quill and its glimmer.