The Old Bookshop

As I walk into the old bookshop I travel to the past like in a time machine, I see the old yellowish pages not aromatic like the new ones some folded , some covered well. Each book that I hold, tries to tell me a story or maybe many , stories they have witnessed around … Continue reading The Old Bookshop

I Fear When you say to Volunteer An event to make people smile, laugh I fear that I will burst into tears or I will take a corner and sit down there I fear some kid will then ask me why I am sad but I am just silent I fear you will not understand … Continue reading