Hai, everyone. I’m Mr. journal, a chocolate brown, two inches thick with slightly tanned pages, leathery coating to cover me, being carefully handled all these months. But now, the person who shared all their feelings, and their daily doings, left me in the sand granules of Baga Beach, when the fear of coronavirus attacking us has increased. I’m left here with no mask or a sanitizer. I don’t know if I’ll go back to the used hands. We ha
Hai, everyone. I’m Mr. journal, a chocolate brown, two inches thick with slightly tanned pages, leathery coating to cover me, being carefully handled all these months. But now, the person who shared all their feelings, and their daily doings, left me in the sand granules of Baga Beach, when the fear of coronavirus attacking us has increased. I’m left here with no mask or a sanitizer. I don’t know if I’ll go back to the used hands. We had a great time together. All those nights, when the writer used to hold me, slowly touching the edges with deep thoughts running in their head, all those times of happy days and teary nights, we have been together.
Now, this stranger picks me up from the sand, slowly tapes back all those pages of mine. Aayansh, my saviour has taken the risk to read me and maybe help me return to my owner. But, will he succeed in finding this known stranger, the writer of these sandy pages? Let’s hope for the best.
