A Global Participatory Social Journalism Platform
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Your most of the posts carry a different truth of intelligence. Of late, I observe in dispassionate that most scholars(?) look at things superficially.
Either they do not understant or they simply soft-pedal the crux of the say. I hear the voice of Ruth in your crisp write-up. The gloam radiates its varigaeted hues in perfect harmony with Nature. The term ‘crepuscular’ itself carries the voice of a broken heart. Is the bird the symbol of a carrier of a missive?
How does ‘forest’ become a male voice whereas the appeal of the haiku represents the soft voice of the feminity? This is my personal observation.
For a moment, I was there.