The night was silent except for the occasional rustling of leaves. The days were not longer anymore; nights had become unbearably cold, and his age was no longer by his side. Grey hair, broken spectacles, torn blanket wrapped around him, a walking stick, and with a kerosene lantern flickering in the winter breeze; the watchman sat on the steps in front of the lake staring at the horizon in anticipation of sunrise.
4 comments:
Hmmm...a sunrise that'll bring hope hopefully.
ur frequesncy of posting shud definetly accelerate from one post a month to several
U highlighted something so deep. We might see him doing nothing..but this man thinks of his life as worthy as we feel ours to be.
Update plz.
to think i was hitting my head for haven't visited in a while!!
pah.
hope alls well and I find an update the next time i come by.
Yours forever sthupitly.
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