Doors opened by chicky pelican stumbled me that day. Pythons or pyramids both are same in different view. Nobody glazed at themselves. Why?
I dont know. Does he picks ticks of wrist watches? who knows.
posted by rahat @ 11:20 AM
The day is grey. As if the brisk butterfly speading its pink wing in bethelhem basket. Chirping whisper is another private sound they could not at last made. I hover and tumble down. Who know the globe. Paws and claws that left me in white sand.
posted by rahat @ 7:47 AM
I am the greatest..like everyone else
Subscribe to
Posts [Atom]