He was the last man except me who was alive. I befriended him in the river bank. That night we killed a tortoise, put it in fire & ate like an ape. I knew those men will come back to hunt him down. So i packed his stuff & told him to leave that place. He denied. I forced him. When he agreed his eyes were flooding with pain. The imminent threat of crossing the river pulled him down into grief. Alas ! There was no other way. The mid night moon was shining in full flame & its reflection upon the river was a visual treat. As he looked beyond the river the dark mangrove trees were all he could see. He stood near the river bank for a moment, absorbed the prevailing silence around the atmosphere & jumped into the river. I was on the bank gazing my attention upon him crossing the river. 2 minutes gone. Then nothing was visible. I looked again into the water & all I could see was blood red liquid spiralling down like a tornado.
If you are reading this then I am assuming you have come accross few books in past & looking forward to lift your reading a notch higher. So what do you think about reading ? How that experience of holding a book & reading it all by yourself inside a calm room sounds like ? Fun, right ? Hell no. Opposed to scrolling Netflix & Instagram, the idea of putting down your head over a book already sounds quite geeky, which could be described as the opposite of fun. But is there any way to make it fun ? Ofcourse. You can have a coffee. You can sit over a comfortable chair with a comfy cushion inside a home whose doors give way to a cool green balcony. That's the decoration part. But there is something more important than decoration & that's the secret. It's fun ONLY IF YOU PICK THE BOOKS RIGHT FOR YOU . Read that sentence again. I didn't say "Pick the RIGHT BOOKS" I said "Pick the books RIGHT FOR YOU". Got it ? Now that's what ma
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