The quaint little bookstore stood at the farthest corner of the road. The sunlight quite didn’t reach it and the smell of damp moss permeated the air. The little abbreviations on the door once golden were now rusty. The door seemed old and creaky and the dust settles on it almost as thickly as snow. … Read moreOutside The Book Closet
Love is not the great romance we have been exposed to since forever, nothing extravagant, nothing apparently large. Love is simple, it is in the intricacies of life, the little things we do to save ourselves, the things we do to give our perception a direction, the things we do to give this valueless life some moments of fulfillment, some moments of living.