Night Sun_TRUE ONE_The Day The Stranger Came To Our Town_What does it mean to be free?
Catalog Guide:
Night Sun
Andy rolled over, pulling the light quilt along with him, then yanking it over his head like a monk’s cowl. The room was filled with dazzling lemony sunlight though it was only seven or so in the morning. And Saturday! ‘Darn, not again,’ Andy thought, ‘I know I closed those curtains before getting into bed last night.’ He peeked an eye out from hwww.onedoor.ccis blankey-cave and turned curiously back towards the window. As usual, the cheery cacophony of bird voices wafted in through the east facing window. He recognized just about all of them, a hobby of his: the sweet peeping of house wrens, the singsong ...
TRUE ONE
Today Mr. Diwan, the professional journalist, is going to interview one of the rising social workers in India, Mr. Ajay. Mr. Ajay became one of the youngest rising social workers in animal care. At the age of 19, he had opened 21 animal shelters all over India. This animal shelter's primary mission was to rescue animals from animal trafficking and to provide shelter and food to stray animals. At the start of the interview, Mr. Diwan saw that Ajay was very nervous about the interview because it was the first time he was going to be interviewed by a professional journalist at national level. S...
The Day The Stranger Came To Our Town
It was a quiet day in my little home town. Circumstances had taken me away when I was very young but when I retired, I came back to my roots. When I left, the population was just over five hundred but that had dwindled to about half. Old ones had died and young one preferred to leave for the big cities. Some came trickling back and others like me, came back in retirement but we were few. We were not enough to bring back the hey-day of our little community called Old Mill Run. There used to be a decent sized stream running north to south at the edge of town and was perfect for the grist mill. N...
What does it mean to be free?
“Ready, Steady Go!” Aurora whispered eagerly watching three droplets of rain race down the foggy glass of the lone attic window. Her eyes followed the beads of water excitedly, her fingers perched on the dusty window sill her fingers stamping her prints unto the wood. Silvery light spilled over the grassy lawn beyond the window, some of it reflecting over Aurora's face enunciating the pure delight that swam in the brown depths. She herself didn’t understand why she liked it so much, why she got so much joy from something so temporary and insignificant, why the way the droplets moved so quickl...