At the very extreme undying urge of writing something, when words don’t make sense and passion starts eating me up,I hear my inner self preaching all valid reasons of why should I end this pitiful career.But then again if I would have heard my inner voice in glorious hours of writing something beyond purpose, I wouldn’t be having this block. Purpose simply defeats the act.Writing for a purpose is same as living for a purpose. The concentration slowly swings to purpose than on writing or living. So I don’t have a purpose today. The bird is out of my heart today. Let it chirp.