I would say that jazz is my own language.

God, Lou. Don’t you think I want you to have what you want?” “You’re my sister. You’re supposed to want those things for me.” “You can’t have it both ways, Lou. When things get bad, you can’t call me—which I’m glad about, I am!—you can’t do that and then imply I don’t give a shit about you.” “That’s what I used to think.

Right here at our doorstep, we'll have the most beautiful bridge in the world.

Count after you care 
Not before you are fair!
Happinnes heals!

Written By Akta Karanvirsingh Kalra

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