My Stories
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Let me tell you the story of the kid with a box on his head. A square cardboard box, with little holes, not big enough for seeing, but enough for breathing. It had one distinct
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I'm walking up a pristine strip of silver grass, that decorates the gold paven streets. Straight line of 1000 year old trees, shelter me from the excessive sunlight. Too much s
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Heavy thudding droplets, fall to ground, piercing holes in the concrete.
One after another, followed with haste, reckless abandon. Like it rained for the first time. Almost
Guest Book
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