Every hurt buried deepin the mindhas an uncanny abilityto surface and make its presence feltwhen I am feeling low, hugging me like a long lost friend

Yes, my scars shape meToday, I have learnt to coverit with fabric made of hope, faith, perseverance, and determination. For this, I am grateful to life

Pushed into darkness, the only way out wasto seek light with thetorch of hope and faithburning in my heart

My eyes constantly seekthe rainbow of my dreamsand I sometimes fail to be grateful for raindropsthat keeps my hope alive

Your exuberance, passion, mesmerizing voice, animated actions, and eyes full of dreamscaptured my attentionso completely, that I didn't feel the bitter taste of coffee

The pull of lingering dreams, the strong, bitter tasteof morning coffee, the ticking clock, and horn of awaiting busform a powerful combination to kick-start the day

I didn't survivethe storm outsideto allow anyone (including myself)to erode my soul

I was wandering lonely and lost, till the musicyou played pulledmy soul into a vortex of emotions, reminding me thatI was still alive

I may have stumbledand stammered at your unexpected push, but the breezeanchored me and I learnt the art of survival

The road to recovery may be tough, but I've closed all the doorsthat lead to giving upWith only one choice in hand, I am focused on healing

I plan for all obstacles, I prepare with care, I worry endlesslyfor the road aheadIn all this, I forgetto enjoy small momentsof my present journey

Don't raise me up, I am but a messenger.

Begin to read and mediate on the word of God.

I wish to stay drenchedforeverin those rain-blue eyesin those...soul-reaching crystalsnot moving a musclenor breathingjustsavoringthis turquoise acheagainst my heart.

What is without dispute...is that the readers need [the BookWorld] just as much as we need them—to bring order to their apparent chaos, if nothing else.

Even as a little kid, I was fascinated by newspapers and magazines. They were my TV. I'd be the first one up to grab the morning paper, mainly to look at the sports pictures, the war pictures.

Curiosity began my journey, which led to regret, which brings me always to wonder and dedication.

I love to shop vintage clothes; in London, I usually go to Relic and Alfie's Market. I usually brunch around London Bridge, where I live.

The truth of the matter is we don't understand our women; we blame on them and it's all our fault.

The walls are covered -crammed- with writing. No. Not writing. They are covered with a single four-letter word that has been inscribed over and over, on every available surface. Love.

To suffer and to endure is the lot of humanity.