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“In the quiet river bathed with sunset, memories become lanterns in the heart. Those days float as laughters of light, tender, holding cups of warmth. You may wonder, what memories are. They are the keeper of forgotten days, holding the scent of yesteryears, long gone. As sunset kisses the river, there fly the memories, the melodies, the forgotten songs. It is time to tell that beauty isn't always loud, to speak of power. Sometimes, it is tender, sometimes quiet, yet, echoes all around.” — Jayita Bhattacharjee
In the quiet river bathed with sunset, memories become lanterns in the heart. Those days float as laughters of light, tender, holding cups of warmth. You may wonder, what memories are. They are the keeper of forgotten days, holding the scent of yesteryears, long gone. As sunset kisses the river, there fly the memories, the melodies, the forgotten songs. It is time to tell that beauty isn't always loud, to speak of power. Sometimes, it is tender, sometimes quiet, yet, echoes all around.