It hangs on the wall opposite my bed - a photograph of my grandpa and me. I am laughing while my grandpa's safe hands are holding me tightly to his chest. Is it only a loving memory? If so, why do I feel grandpa's presence mingled with the world around me? My grandpa and I had walked together a long way. He was there to guide me, to teach me, to protect me. One dark …showed first 75 words of 454 total…

…showed last 75 words of 454 total…he the tall bushy willow tree in our house yard? Is he in the fresh breeze whispering through my room? Or is he only in the past, only a memory to be cherished. This photograph seems to tell me - ************************************************** It's short and not really perfect, but it gives me a mystery feeling, a mystery of the Muslim's world. She is my close buddy who just discussed with me about post-war relations betwen Pakistan-Bangladesh, Vietnam-US ^_^