4:13

Well it was 4:13 when i wanted to write this, an odd time to stare at, on the face of the clock as the hour hand swivels languorously, its movements the result of the slow yet continuous revolution of the minute hand which is in turn systematically affected by the second hand, tenaciously ticking away, each hand inscrutably involved in a complex mechanism of gears and ancillary springs.

My drooping eyes notwithstanding, i desperately desired to discover the culminations of all the sensual powerful sex which cast an obscure veil over the most cunning plans, each seeking to attain a selfish unparalleled objective; all these revolving around three characters in this novel i finally finished. Breathtaking.

So much so that now all i feel is this longing to satiate my want to embark on another novel novel just to replace my despondence, clearly the consequence of arriving at the end of this moving story, in which a familiar aphorism kept pulsating throughout the pages...

never trust a woman.