The sun is out in its glory. It's bright but not unkind and unloving. Light plays patterns on the ground, filtered through the trees. The cluster of tall trees, right next to the lake stand together like village elders discussing some thing, in the sun. An expat with his son is out to enjoy the Sun. The man should be in his thirties, well built and handsome, and the kid very tiny. The boy wears a blue shirt with shorts of same colour and a cap, which becomes him very much. He wanders around collecting sticks fallen on the ground from the trees from between the fallen leaves, as the father walks with the stroller. Dad must be athletic, wearing Adidas from the top to bottom, the white Tee, blue shorts and shoes. Breeze is calm and refreshing, almost caressing and comforting with its touch. I hope to lose migraine soon, merely by the blessings of this kind weather. A couple settles down in the bench next to me and they laugh, shout and indulge in playful banter. Flowers are in full...
I am a Worshiper of Words. I ponder, I think, I write, therefore, I exist. A Blog on Literature, Philosophy and Parenting