Books cast a mystic spell over me that is hard to explain at times. For me buying a book, reading a book even holding a book in my hands drifts me away for few minutes and serves to be very relaxing.
In memory of all the victims of terrorist attacks around the world.
Beautiful faces, innocent hearts,
Eyes full of hopes and dreams,
Precious lives destroyed unjustly,
with cruel intentions and actions,
Blood spilled mercilessly,
and fear instilled for wrong reasons,
The whole universe cried,
at each soul that departed with unfulfilled wishes,
being the victims of hate,
Which is an ultimate crime,
That nature never allowed and created.
I glanced at my purple hand bag
hanging over the hook.
In a corner of a room,
With sunlight coming on it.
I felt happy and connected.
Hiding myself behind a tree
With tears in my eyes,
Dust on my face,
Slippers in my feet,
And veil on my head.