The Untold Story…

The Untold Story…

#100DaysOfBlogging Day 4

I had recently done a quotes challenge on Facebook, where I had shared quotes I love for a week. I find some quotes to be inspiring when the mood is low, or just relatable to what I feel. Maybe that’s why they say “Been there, done that.” Recently, Tina Basu had tagged me to do a 3 day quote challenge on my blog.

The rules are simple.

  • Post for three consecutive days
  • Post one to three quotes each day
  • Tag three blogger buddies each day to attempt the challenge.

I’m bending the first and last rules slightly. I’m going to post on alternate days, not consecutive. And I’m leaving the tag open for any blogger buddy to take it up.


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Maya Angelou’s I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings has been on my to-be-read list for a while now. The reason: this quote.

I relate to this quote in different ways. There are times when my mood is quite low, but I cannot tell the reason or express what happened to anyone, not even the closest of friends. Because I cannot express it, I suffer in silence. That sadness is agonizing. Some of my friends have this ability to sense something is not right, and somehow get the reason out though. Another way I can relate to it is purely from a storyteller’s point of view. To have an idea but be unable to put it into words, make the story take shape… that’s irritating. Writer’s block is something I do not like. When that story finally sees the light, the relief and happiness is palpable.

What about you, my dear reader? Can you relate to this quote?


From 23rd September, exactly 100 days are left in the year, the idea is to write on each of these days. A few other friends chose their own themes. I thought I’d collaborate with Aniesha bon on the challenge. We’re choosing topics on alternate days, and each day, we’re writing on the same topic too. I chose the topic STORY for Day 4.


(© Vinay Leo R. @ I Rhyme Without Reason, 26th September 2016)

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Poetry & writing are to me, a breath of fresh air in a life that is sometimes covered by the smoke of sorrow or self doubt. They also become the sweets I share to celebrate when life offers me a reason to. But most of all, they are to me, my life. For each word I write is a piece of my heart, a thought that just had to find its way into the world.

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