A pen and a paper with some memories we can decipher our selves our life. Its a great way to hope for yourself. The salvation that this place provides is unparallel. You see nothing is as cathartic as writing for yourself. Scribling your thoughts and then letting them leave. Its your escape and may be you are looking for someone who can dwell in them.
Probably this might sound redundant we can understand this in great nature. Watching our own selves grow clearer. Happier. And even self reliant. But who would read us? Certainly not the guy like me. Not even the hope of a guy like me. In many winters I see you scribling..what is our dream? What is our meaning in all this..
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