I don't really know if it's the right thing to do, making new life. Kids grow up, generations take their place. What does it all come to? More hills bulldozed and more ocean fronts filled in? Faster cars and more cats run over? Who needs it?

The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst

Patriotism has served, at different times, as widely different ends as a razor, which ought to be used in keeping your face clean and yet may be used to cut your own throat or that of an innocent person.

Life is a white paper and we all are different colours.

Written By Ali Abas oweeri

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