I had this supposedly bad habit of doodling or scribbling on the last page of the notebook during class. By middle school I was sitting in the middle benches and by high school I was a back bencher but my academic prowess did not match my choice of seat.
The reason I chose the last bench was because I wanted to scribble on the last page. Many of my writings of those days is lost in those last pages of class notebooks.
Many such words like mine may still be scattered across scrap dealer’s stacks waiting to be recycled. Scribbles that hold stories of last bench anecdotes, of secret crushes, of friendship and everlasting foes.
lost in pages
of timelessness
backbencher tales
Through The Coloured Glass 
Indeed.
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