Once in a while, when people around me go to exotic locations or restaurants to celebrate holidays, I step into a library. The city library is heaven. I mean, if heaven exists, then it looks like a big library, with old books and well cushioned armchairs.
Once in a while I sit here and write out many things. I call them “word tears” from the eyes of the soul. Drop by drop. Word by word. Those words are solitude lovers, they hardly travel. They are hidden somewhere in a pretty peony printed diary. Continue reading “Library, The Quiet World Of Stories”