Looking at the past, sometimes I wonder – was that me?

Time has a magic. It molds you without letting you know that it changed you completely.

Past feels like chapters from a book. Each chapter having a different life. Each chapter starts with my birth into a new life, and ends with the death of that life. Birth is always exciting and beautiful; so as death is always piercing painful.

Some chapters are beautiful and some teach lessons. Perhaps, every chapter makes you a different person. All each chapter leaves are those special memories to put in the box of your heart. And then, those chapters are not only titles, but the nostalgia of whole chapter.

Pardon if what is written above seems complicated. Perhaps, today I knew why all literature is complicated!

Kun faya kun!