by Amanda the Panda
The only reason that I read the old and slightly yellowed manuscript was because I had to. The worn paper was coated with sepia color that flowed freely around, as if the letters were dancing off of the paper and triggering something utterly amazing in your brain. The manuscript itself was only a tiny thing, bound together with handmade marble paper and jute, giving it the quality of being more ancient than it acually was. The words had a monotonous sense that was somehow extremely interesting to me, but at the same time could seem as boring as a single red rose growing in the middle of winter, withering with every blustering wind. My mind fluttered between thoughts of actually liking this piece of ancient history and only reading it because I had to very rapidly and I felt trapped within the walls of the book. Somehow, the manuscript always managed to keep me entertained by its keen little title: The Manuscript.
Amanda the Panda is 14 years old. You can find her here, here, and here.