To write is to fly; to soar above the banal existence of 'reality'. To draw from naked 'reality' and to embellish it with the satin and pearl of your imagination. To embroider the languid fabric of fact with the filigree of Emotion. Indeed to create a new reality! A reality where the bounds are only limited by the bounty of imagination.

To call a spade a spade is no big deal, is it? But to be able to describe the 'spade' is such a way that the reader remembers it forever - the sheen of its blade; the workmanship of its handle; the beauty of even the dead flower crushed by its power; the caked soil clinging to it like chocolate of evidence to the fingers of the errant brat! And what about the story of the spade - "the one that's trapped in your imagination and desperate to get out"

We all know that packing is the most boring chore of a vacation. But see how the brilliant Jerome K Jerome makes a hilarious narration of this Here. And then see how Tolstoy deals with the heart-warming emotion of home-coming.