Not all stories are divine that are painted white on the gates of Heaven.

Some stories would just be overwhelming like the sea, where the sound of the waves wasn’t required to express the depth of the ocean.

Not all stories were revealed like a vast meadow.

Some stories were hidden in the cocoon and some stories, shared with the moon.

Not all stories would be woven into words and were necessitated to be said.

Some stories would just flow silently like a river cascading from her eyes to the white sheets on the bed!




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