From Dashie, with love Show more
In the bright, windy morning, the website said that the letter was still waiting to get airlifted from France.
But, the tall man in the brown shirt, the postman, appeared at cjunior's just as the Sun peeked above the zenith.
The captivating smell of the plastic cover, presents, filled the air as he placed it on my palm.
"It can't be!"
I opened it slowly, with laser precision, enjoying the essence.
'La Poste, France'- said the seal, marked on the second of March.
Inside was seven cards, photos printed with love, from a place 5000 miles away.
The words were as beautiful as his toots, touching as I thought it would be.
The picture of Seine looked magical and Maât's, the cat's coloured eyes appeared to be shining.
My heart was melting as I skipped through those colored photos.
It's been more than an year since I joined oldbytes, and the vibes I created with people all across the world are just incredible.
The sky was grey with imminent snowfall. The cupboard at her apartment had photos taken from all across the world.
With her hair short and straightened down to her shoulders, she gave her smile and sat across Mrs cjunior.
Her elegant fingers have aged and had a platinum ring on it.
Moustache had grown into a woman.
cjunior looked into her eyes, which had a thousand crystals.
Each crystal shone with the gleeful memories we had at class and at late nights.
He could almost hear her anklets tinkling down the corridors, which once were ours.
But the brightest one was about the secret rendezvous they had in the city of lights, the walk along the Seine with fine art all around them, and the one with him supporting her by playing out with some chords on the public piano in the train station, while she sang her favourite song.
So much to talk about, so much to share.
I haven't met the mister yet!
The four of them talked over tea and sandwiches.
The snow fell, and the bond lives on.
She is Miss Shining Show more
When the golden shower tree shows off her charm by showering her angelic yellow petals all over cjunior's grandpa's, it'd be that time of the year again.
The time where a special djinn from a land afar, strolls onto to the old picturesque town, to visit her mother's.
She hails from the province of the most legendary pub of the subcontinent, to where people even from the Malabar arrive to have a pint of the fresh, white, luscious liquor, which is celestial and uplifting, many ballads say.
The town rejoices on her arrival.
Like an empress, she'd come, after her bath,
with her face shining, like the Eiffel Tower.
And then she would read the day's paper,
gently, as the morning sunshine kiss her wet, dark hair.
While the monsoon clouds slowly beckon the golden petals and the heat away, the house will be brimming with cousins, jokes, gags, fights and telly with the cricket on.
She is Miss Shining.
She is my ray of hope.
The Engineer From Malabar Show more
"You can have a bit of Sambar which I've made, if you want."
I declined eloquently.
"There's some steamy, hot rice too!"
"No thanks, I've all I need."
Grandpa, The Engineer, was born into a penniless family in an outlying town in Malabar, a land potent with culture, heritage and poverty, near Nila, in a time where she was as pretty as a Champaka flower, an angel.
"Neelu was my pal and we used to walk to the school everyday!"
His fine but modest score in high school got him to a college far away, where he earned his diploma, joined the telecoms, which allowed him to live in every part of the country.
Even the house where I grew up and the life that I lead now, could be traced back to the decisive step he took: to break the ceiling, study, rise and live.
He now rests, by reading the old books and by taking care of his place, on which he has concentrating more on, after Grandma left.
"And now, let me take my nap."
And the Sambar?
I don't understand a word they're saying, still it's beautiful
Wrote a bit of a sequel to my semi fiction.
Yo, @vfrmedia, what's up!
How's Suffolk, the cats, everybody?
Wrote a bit of a fantasy story today.
Such a beautiful song from Justin and Ed, don't you think?
You can listen to the tweets of common birds at https://coneixelriu.museudelter.cat/ocells.php just by clicking on the bird's image.
People who don't follow back @a_breakin_glass will inherit bad spirits and karmic debts which can be repaid only by living through seventy seven human lives, rebirth after death, like one of them trigonometric functions.
l'enigma de oldbytes
letteth the blessings of the lord vadakkunadhan come hither thee!
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