Dusty roads. Bicycles ringing bells. Cows lazing. Farmers and bullock carts. Children playing cricket. Wealth in reality, poverty in existence. Happiness in little things, sadness in even smaller things. Solace in the world’s biggest things. Comfort on reassurance, discomfort in oblivion. Beauty in it’s diversity, magnificence in her unity. This is my country, and Folked are my people.
Leave a Reply