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Prose, Writing Entries, Writings

The Angel’s Valley

 

The place was cold, and the wind is still. I am standing on my favorite place, the rooftop of the university building. There was no sun yet, and everything was quiet as the ocean sleeping. My life used to be this quiet, so mundane that I almost hate it. Now, even though my feet begun to feel numbed by the cold stone on where I was standing, I now admitted that I craved for this stillness, the ordinariness of life. Continue Reading

Prose, Writing Entries, Writings

The Boy with a deep sigh

sad boy on the stair steps

Poor boy.

I saw him once in the neighbourhood where I was residing for a moment. It was in the year 1954. I could still remember it clearly. He was sitting there, hands on his face, looking so sad. For some reason on that particular day, I decided not to go to my work. Instead, I approached the boy. Continue Reading