First person narratives
When I was 21, my mother took me to a palmist. I had one question to ask him (I had just finished my interviews at the IIMs and was nervous), "Will I study more?" He took a look at my palm and nodded his head ponderously, "Yes,
First person narratives
The bird of happiness nested in my hair, Brushed away all my world weary cares, Breathed the softest song into my ear, Brought me everything my hearts craves. The litte boat woven from beautiful dreams, Rocked its way from rivulet to stream, Oh! Steer gently the bend, little boat You
Life
You give them a piece of you. They don't ask for it. They do something dumb one day like kiss you, or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves