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Location: Dublin, Republic of, Ireland

Friday, 13 April 2007


As a writer, I have grown-up and my realities are sober in the writing of non-fiction and satire. My work holds the sharp acumen of alertness, the reflection of an endurance that is no longer peppered or sugared by idealism. It wasn't so before and not last year, but it is now. I hold no illusions to the tackling of my craft with the exception that my romantic prose alone is filled with dreamy conjectures and comic paradoxes. This shaped from events in real life, is probably the way I shall define myself and write my stories from now till the end of my days.

I have learnt that the world which regales the word forever does not exist. And that the word ephemeral is probably the most honest definition to everyday events and episodes, that may otherwise be held to the deception of a happy-ever-after ending. Change is imminent for every journey, is it not. Nothing lasts except for the cradling of memories and thoughts and that too, capsuled only for a physical lifetime. Yet, far from a pessimist I am an optimist. So how do I hold this truth except to say that I seek eternity from the hour which is so momentary and yet if I close my eyes, I may wish it would strangle time that I should stumble on my pleasures a little longer than may be really necessary. - susan abraham

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