THE MAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH The man in the photograph didn’t withdraw air from surrounding, While I breathed several times a single minute. The man in the photograph didn’t laugh at a hilarious joke, While I burst into volleys of laughter at mention of the slightest satire. The man in the photograph didn’t feel at all thirsty, While I couldn’t suffice without water for more than an hour. The man in the photograph wore an impeccable white shirt; devoid of creases, While the garments that fitted my body were with blotches of stain and grease. The man in the photograph didn’t budge a fraction of an inch, While I tossed and turned with growing spurts of overwhelming restlessness. The man in the photograph was clad in threadbare clothes even in chilly winter, While I draped my persona with furry covers of pure sheepskin wool. The man in the photograph never developed shabby stubble of beard, While I shaved my skin scrupulously twice in a single day. The man in the photograph didn’t sweat drops of pungent perspiration, While I shed water from my armpits every unfolding second in the sun. The man in the photograph didn’t sit for years on the trot, While I needed to rest occasionally on the ergonomically sculptured leather pouch. The man in the photograph didn’t expurgate his bowels, While I made frequent journeys to the bathroom after devouring plum juice and water. The man in the photograph didn’t cough when tickled by pigeon feather, While I erupted into an earth shattering sneeze when struck by cold. The man in the photograph was holistically phlegmatic, While I was full of volatile energy; ready to plunge into the sea of adventure. The man in the photograph had black hair since times immemorial. While I had acquired grizzly streaks of white with the onset of age. The man in the photograph didn’t struggle to earn money, While I worked at frantic pace to make my livelihood.
As a matter of fact; the man in the photograph had died decades ago, And I was still living ;all set to change the complexion of this earth.