On the scales of the sky. Than the soul of a child. Africa, viewed from up there. In the cupped hands clean of the gods. Seems only a golden blot. A streak of grape must. Those allegedly as being civilized world. We weigh the eternity of these children killed by disease. In fact, passed all at the banality. A drop of love could cure even the gods. I can not answer the gaze of glassy eyes.

The time with the first posts. Among the few academic books in the world penned jointly by a Mother and her Daughter. With the birth of every child, enfolds a new dream! But ours is not a utopian world and not every dream has a smooth ride. Then where is the lacuna? Thought Blast From the Past! .

REFLECTIONS OF AN ITINERANT LIFE OBSERVER. I have always loved to offer hope and be sympathetic to people when I can. I have always believed and agreed that perseverance pays off in the end. And that not only does the patient dog eat the fattest bone it also eats the meat attached to the bone and gets a pat on the head.

Or so I called my self. You might be wondering why I made a public diary. Or a remedy to the numbing ache they have inside. If you want to share some of yours, you are very much welcome to submit it at. Leave a Reply Cancel reply.