Ah ! The soft, poetic, golden pause between summer and winter, we called ‘September’.
m.a.
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Ah ! The soft, poetic, golden pause between summer and winter, we called ‘September’.
m.a.
It is the irony of this world that people express anger and hatred without restraint, and love with hesitation.
m.a.
The sky mingled with the Earth infinitely in the tenderness of rain drops.
m.a.
I am like the moon. I change everyday. I am constantly becoming and unbecoming.
m.a.
There is a black hole in my heart where my dreams collapsed.
m.a.
We spend so many years trying to learn words, when it is really the pauses we need to understand.
m.a.
The aimless seething that drifted through my days, scorched bare every thread that bound me.
m.a.