My grandpa.

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 …

…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 ^_^