Shahla Maharramova
@ShehlaM
Potterhead
Uluslararasi ilişkiler
Bologna,Italya
Bakı , Azərbaycan, 28 Mayıs 1998
202 okur puanıNisan 2017 tarihinde katıldı
Ölümdən sonra hər kəs müqəddəs olur.
In death, all men become saints, she thought, and she both welcomed and rebelled against the thought. Perhaps it was better this way-this erasing of bad memories, this replacement with happier ones, like changing a dirty tablecloth.
Reklam
Now, with everything else-work, money, house, pride, dignity gone, only the love remains.
You will never believe me, I know. But wherever we may be, I will remain
Your husband, Gopal.
All these tears shed in the world, where do they go? she wondered. If one could capture all of them, they could water the parched, drought-stricken fields in Gopal's village and beyond. Then perhaps these tears would have value and all this grief would have some meaning. Otherwise, it was all a waste, just an endless cycle of birth and death; of love and loss.
Yazardan və Hindistan haqqında oxuduğum ilk kitab idi amma yazarın təsvirinə, hissləri bu qədər detalları ilə göstərməsinə heyran qaldım. Brima oxuduğum ən güclü qadınlardandır. Hekayənin müsbət sonluqla bitməsini görmək istədiyim üçün mütləq kitabın ikinci hissəsini oxuyacam.
Reklam