The young boy and I were running on Holi day, up and down the driveway. He said, Papa, isn’t this the best. The birds are chirping, the trees are rustling, what else could we want.
Nothing at all, I thought. What else could I want.
A diary, mostly about running, by Aseem Vadehra
The young boy and I were running on Holi day, up and down the driveway. He said, Papa, isn’t this the best. The birds are chirping, the trees are rustling, what else could we want.
Nothing at all, I thought. What else could I want.