Someone once asked me why I wrote. And I said, "To live." He thought for a moment and then said "what you write?". I looked into his eyes (to make sure my reply to reach destination) and confessed: "I write odes to the smiles, the wonderful mental stage that is love's lost children never to things ordinary and routine that make me sigh, small details, the butterflies, the roses without thorns and the moon. " Satisfied with my answer, I hugged and kissed my forehead and left.
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