Castles and dreams are a lot alike. They have unwanted air of decorations, You build brick by brick, red faced, for years; one day, they wake up to reality. Love is a what-if. Try your blood and water may it be. In the end, they wake up to dreams. In absence of a quarrel, there is no peace. Silence it is, one that speaks too much. It is more like pulling the chair while you were sitting right in the heart of the ocean. It's a slow, slow fall. Soumya
Some Memories are hard to hold on So I put them on words.