في لحظة معيّنة من وجودنا ، نفقد السيطرة على حياتنا؛ فتغدو، منذ ذلك، مسوقةً بالقدر

These too are of a burning color--not orange, not gold, but if pure gold were liquid and could raise a cream, that golden cream might be like the color of the poppies.

He and she belonged to each other for always: he understood that now. The impulse which had first drawn them together again, in spite of reason, in spite of themselves almost, that deep-seated instinctive need that each had of the other, would never again wholly let them go.

Written By Samarendra mohanty

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