“She had always wanted words, she loved them, grew up on them. Words gave her clarity, brought reason, shape. Whereas I thought words bent emotions like sticks in water.” Set in an abandoned villa/hospital in Tuscany, The English Patient is a novel of four people maimed and broken by the war – A badly burnt
Tag: postaday
I have been reading the book ‘A beautiful mind’ since a few weeks and I am still on the 78th page. This comes from the person who used to read Famous Five Big edition(3 books) in one night. I cannot read at a stretch like that now….with no distractions. I open a book get in
It’s the Day 2 of Festival of Words by Write Tribe and today’s request is to showcase a few blogs I love. I would like to share a few literary and creative writing blogs I enjoy a lot. 1) Writing for Life – Creative Writing, Personal Journals To find beauty in the subtle moments,
Quarter-life crisis is Feeling like you have no one to talk to even when you have people by your side. Watching ‘Gilmore Girls’ and ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ episode after episode, at a stretch. Sleep cycle follows a different time-zone than the one you are in geographically. Living in at your parent’s place after 5 years of
(Feb 24th prompt from NaBloPoMo : Do you think you are more of an optimist or a pessimist? ) Thinking long and hard on the answer to the above question. I came to this sad conclusion: I am an optimist when things go my way. When its running downhill, I turn in to a dreadful pessimist.
Growing up, my house did not know the meaning of silence. 2 studious girls who did their daily lessons by reading loudly. 2 hyperactive boys who always had to play football or watch cartoon. Not to forget, the cat and dog fights for everything from the TV remote to the Nutella bottle. However hard my
Pictures speak more than a thousand words. My lovely cousin sisters giving me hope, not all of childhood innocence and curiosity is devoured by pixels on a screen. May they be blessed and protected. (Weekly Photo Challenge : Threes. Tell a story in three pictures ) Linking it to NaBloPoMo. Phew 21st day.
From the time I was 11 or 12, whatever is it that I chose to wear- skirt & top, jeans & kurta, salwar kameez or the abaya – there has been an extra fabric on my head, covering my hair, popularly called as the HIJAB. On doing a quick Google search, you will realize the
Place where I grew up : Doha, Qatar Class gradation and caste differences was something I was not aware of during my childhood days. Everyone had the same Staedtler Pencil and Faber Castell Colour Pencils. It was assumed everyone was from reasonably well-to-do families. Some of our neighbours were from Syria, Egypt or Palestine (besides
(The Daily Prompt from Daily Post today is : If you could wake up tomorrow and be fluent in any language you don’t currently speak, which would it be? Why? What’s the first thing you do with your new linguistic skills?) For me, without a doubt, the answer to the above question is ARABIC. A
A broken heart Nearly 13 years ago, my middle school friend gifted to me this key-chain after she came back from a trip. Though broken at the side, battered and bruised by rough use, this travels with me wherever I go. We live in two countries now, still our laughter and gossip hasn’t changed one