Don’t shed tears for me. Is there anyone left to shed tears for me? I will tear off the last page in the next three days and there will be nothing left of my memoirs so far. I will be a blot in the memories of many. And so will be the days as I will watch till my eyes water the wind blowing over my footprints in time.

Will my laughter and sadness whisper to the next girl in 356? I don’t know. This is my silent mourning in alleys which none but I wander in.