I heard they are changing the dictionary.
When the streetlights flicker, think of every doe-eyed child that the city swallows
Welcome, weary traveler! To my humble abode. Come, come. I'll show you
You know those instances when we start off in the wide, turbulent currents of a river making its way downstream?
Grief is a lonely river, like a fisherman's song with an empty net
If they knew, your mother would have said, “It’s in your head, darling,” and your father would have screamed, “Put that head in the toilet bowl where it belongs.”
In that world, ignorance amassed like water near the roots of a cypress tree.
The place had no soul or spirit left, and it was evident in the colourless walls, the unclean glasses, the empty eyes of the server who left me a menu card.
As I turned around to reply, she was gone.
The dark wintry night was descending. The unusual tranquillity was reigning everywhere.
A blur of city lights.
"Let me tell you a story."
Nayeem believed that night-time was the only time when the lighthouse was truly beautiful.
The bus stopped and the doors opened.
The chilliness of the room was unpleasant since I had woken up.
“Excellent! Come downstairs, we’re waiting for you.”
"What would be an absolutely perfect afternoon to you?"
Daffodils and forget-me-nots smile under the Autumn Sun.
Oh, I’m waltzing down.