“I was observing my own trial through a closed window, oddly indebted and drowning in despair as I watched her write about me. To be penned about is to be taken down memory lane, and that lane is a form of life. It did not matter whether her pen censured me or erased me. Even her hatred would prove that I had once been real to her. What scared me was not rejection, but love, for love would demand that I gather my broken self and stand beside her without dying.” LovePhilosophyDespair Author:Mohmod Irfan Shah
“She may not belong to my life, nor my name, nor my fate, yet if her presence awakens poise within my chaos and makes my suffering feel almost sacred, then in the secret room of my soul, I call her mine.” LoveLifeSoulSufferingFateSacredMine Author:Mohmod Irfan Shah
“Five minutes were supposed to pass. Instead, time aged into years.I wonder, did her clock fail, or did mine fall out of rhythm with my heart?” LoveHeartTimeYears Clock Author:Mohmod Irfan Shah