I always think ,what happens to those stories that ends? Do they have new beginnings or do they take a death? What would the characters do once the story has ended? Do they wait for the next reader to play the plot once more or do they yearn for a new story to be written for them? I still ponder how can a story end? There is always a story after a story is read ,there are unwritten conversations that the characters do even after they are put to sleep. Do we really listen to them or do we just ignore them like the dark that gets ignored in the light, or like a smile that gets forgotten with a tear. There is a story in me and a story in you, don't know whether it is a parable but for sure a story that speaks to the self. I listen even now to them, I hear what they speak ,I know those were mine but not anymore as I have lived that part of me and that part is just a line in the story that I say is mine. I have characters whom I have forgotten to give lines to speak and I have ones who speaks volumes that I don't understand. I do have faces who keep vanishing like the rainbow clearing off after the rain. I know I have written my story not to be read but to be lived. I still ask myself where are those thespians whom I portrayed as mine in the story. Did they forget the lines or did  they just run away from the lines. In all the bundle of questions I know somewhere I missed some line that I should have written. No apologies to those performers of mine as my story had to be written wrong. To all those troupers of mine who waved goodbye and to all those who got absorbed with time and to those voiceless echoes that still rings in me tones that I never get ,I say a thank you for being a part of my story that never got read as that book never got found on the shelf. There is always a story after a story, a story  that will never get written but lived as your life is  a big story that can never be trapped in words.