The last of the wool was sheared as the sheep had long stopped being restless standing still resigned to its fate. In fact, it was his mind that was a cauldron. The wool-gatherer wasn’t white within.
Courtesy of Sammi Cox Weekend Writing Prompt#92
Possess a maniacal penchant for books, more books, still more books & lots more books -When not watching cricket that is! Love my Scotch &scribble for fun; Spend a great part of my professional life unraveling (or at least attempting to) the mysteries of International Tax and Transfer Pricing. My eclectic interests include Philosophy; Booze; Military History; Metaphysics; Quantum Theory and such. Mush being a strict taboo though! Led Zeppelin is ambrosia but never ever talk to me about Justin Beiber! I derive inspiration from Henry David Thoreau's immortal lines, "If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away."