She isn’t human, fleshes and bones never made her. She is a phoenix, burning in the fire and reincarnating yet again with wings of fury. She is the girl you see every day , a bit strong, a bit innocent, her head held high, with a bit of smile adorning her sweet face. Her neatly plaited hair, thick black and neatly covered with a cloth that looks dusty.
Flowers filled with fragrance hide in her tresses inspiring her about the wonderful world she lives in. It’s all in her head, the happiness, the blooming flowers, the euphoria and ephemeral feelings of heaven.
She picks her infant crying over in the old cloth cradle tied to the banyan tree nearby. The city buildings have overgrown the trees. But the motherhood in her finds her child the perfect shade under the only greens. She is a mason and paid only half of her…
View original post 342 more words