Motorcycle and the glasses,

Apples appears – disappears

I stand there searching for the best pen,

How can a blooming rose bloom on a rigid palm?

Once upon a time, there was a lady who handed three apples to her son for school. Son returns with two apples in his bag. “You ate one”, mom asked. “No” said the kid. You gave one to your friend then, “No”, repeated the kid. It must have fallen, mom concludes. Kid replies, “I never opened my bag”.

Where is the apple?

Kshitiz, asked me this question. “Where was the apple?”

I could not reply. I was afraid of being wrong.

There are several things that bloom like roses in our mind, our dreams. Rose within us is not the same out. We fear the perfection, roses never bloom in our palm so we don’t touch them.

Pen and Glasses – mere reasons to let away the dreams.

.sugam