When you think your destination has reached, become a driver.
I am still reading the book that I am writing.
I asked her, how do you feel beautiful flower, knowing of your short life. She said, why do you waste precious moments in contemplation and soak in the joy of my being.
What will I do with your picture, my creator?
Come, visit me, when you can.
Till then, I’ll befriend this world.
He was the ink she wrote her love stories with. One day, the bottle rolled over and crashed. Walking to sea, she washed her ink soaked palms. Spreading love everywhere.
With each maddening step taken, she laughs with awe.
She walks with thorns. And when she smells rajnigandhas she dances.