My daughter recently participated in a three-legged race during the festive period. Though she wasn't too excited to put herself through the challenge, knowing her close friend would partner her through the race
A few days back, I read one of my posts from 2007, which instilled a sense of nostalgia in me for the simpler times. Though I still write all the forms of posts, as my friends who have read me through these years know, my love for them is not equal. Then why do I continue to publish them?
It was an early Sunday evening, and it wasn’t time for dinner yet. But my body clock hadn’t adjusted itself to the timezone yet. It was lunchtime at my place home, and my body wanted food. Local time be damned. But Sydney didn't welcome me.
On a scorching Sunday morning, an eight-year-old me is thrilled again to wear my new swimming gear. It was also a day of a few new lessons.
When I published the first issue of this newsletter, I had no clue I would do that 20 times over the last fifteen months. I had started writing it with the hope that each issue would bring some value to a few writers. The journey ends today.