Behind the walls I could listen to a thousand stories breathe. They screamed and cried with fear but could not speak. A little bit of desperation and a little more of belief, could give a voice to the thousands who felt so weak. A little hope to asylum was given by the trees, who clung on to its roots, even when it was time for its every leaf to leave.
In this world where every force tries to bring you down and inflicts the idea of your ordinariness into your psyche, remember, it is ordinary for every butterfly to have patterns on their wings but not all are fashioned the same way!
READ, WRITE, IGNITE..
And fall in love with your ordinary!