Love will come my way
...om, the smell of old books and old wood seem to overwhelm the cologne that I sprayed on me. In front, I face an open book waiting to be read, the book to be used by its owner. How sleepy I can get while I read each succeeding lines thinking, consoling myself, ‘Only a few pages more…’ I try hard to put into heart the words I read so I would not waste my time wondering what is life all about and how I have faced it for the past years, the life I have seen through my own eyes, felt by my own heart. I can’t stop leaning against my sturdy chair and just look again at the shades of green, red, and spots of white outside my transparent wall. I think to myself why...