What will happen to humans, if at some point in their lives, they are designed to see their own consciousness at work?
The moment I saw her everything around me was serene. It might be because of the devotional vicinity. Her pink dupatta with golden border was elegantly matching with the green shade of her kurti and the French braid open brown hairs were freshly washed and smelled pleasant. Her nails were painted red and perfectly twinned the ankle length legging she wore.
Oh! I’m not angry. It’s called dry sarcasm. I’m just Chandler!
I share everything with you,
With a lil sense of security,
You understand me like no one does,
And bear all my peculiarity.
Read the Journey of a Daughter as she transforms into another role
Cleaning… on loop
It’s 5 p.m. She’s back…