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Footprints of a Frustrated Writer

13 Jul 2012 14:16

Reading a page of a book out of thousands and millions of pages is, for us, like looking through a window on brighter side of the world that is constantly calling us, tempting us to set on a journey with the frigate of a book for more and more adventures...

The Soaking Wet Words 

Whenever grandmother opens up the door, three things may happen. First, she faces me with stretched arms inviting me to her bosom and I am but to jump in there no matter if I am not feeling well or happy. What matters is that she is happy. Secondly, when she opens up the door and stands by the door waiting. This means that I have to caress and fondle her and flirt with her so long as she begins to laugh and brings her face forward for me to kiss both her cheeks one after another. But in the last case, nothing works: neither flirting nor sulking. The door rattles and that's all. When I open the door I find her approaching the steps with her face bent down. I just lose face if I say hello in such cases. She mutters something so quietly that one cannot make whether she is greeting or cursing. But whenever we make peace again, she says: "Shame on you Mahgol! It's impolite not to reply to one's greetings."