Finding rhythm in the fallen stems and falling leaves, I walked the path my feet took me. Sometimes, the body knows where to head. Sometimes, it's to futile to rely on thoughts. I began to walk towards the other side of the Geneva, crossed bridges, walked across the fields and strolled across the cemeteries. Without a worry of time, distance and speed, I strolled and strolled.
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'Berry' is a short story written by Langston Hughes. It's a story of a black boy who gets to work as a helper at the disabled c... -
This is a Korean fairy tale. In this story, there are three brothers, of three the youngest seemed to be good and favorite of the father. ...
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