It was a usual lazy Sunday morning; my husband and I have an almost set Sunday morning routine. We get up just a bit later than usual, but not too late, and my husband heads towards the main door to pick up the newspaper and I walk into the kitchen
I have nearly stopped reading heavy, serious books. It wasn’t a conscious decision to begin with, though; I don’t know when exactly this started, but slowly somewhere I decided it meddled with my mind and heart so much that I found myself entangled with the character’s turmoil… and ended up
I have a little garden, which I tend to very lovingly; I had a rose plant which had a couple of roses when I bought it and then I waited and waited but no more blooms. I started doubting my gardening skills wondering if I am doing everything right. I
