Mamma!
Death is dancing in the atmosphere, decorating the face of the face, the joy of falling on the life of the teeth is not hidden in the horror of death. The sound of life-threatening music is loud, it rotates faster and faster, all around. The cold winds go, man is going to stone, isolation is known.
The color of the sky has changed. Peeps a piece of sky through the little window of my room. The blue has turned into a clay pin. The birds do not even look far away, perhaps they will not be able to get out of the nests. Do not know whether Dana dinka will also pass or not? Will the thirsty go to the pool? Or he too came to man, in the grief of the beginning, he would be forced to isolate himself.
The only tree visible from the window also stands quietly silent. Thinking of smelling death. Will I see the bright faces that used to take coffee bags while reading the newspaper sitting in my shadow? And she was old, but she was very old, who used to walk in the evening with her children's little baby, and she used to talk to me about standing. Life used to dance in these voices and laughter. Don't know who looked at this life.
Day or night, I do not sleep today. As soon as the eyelids fall asleep, the loud ringing siren of the ambulance enters the window. My heart begins to yearn for a patient longing for breath in an ambulance. Another stroke another persecuted receipt.
The sound is as loud as possible, I try to find my eyes again but do not do it. Now is the sound of the police car hooter and along with the repeated reminder announcement that the exit is death.
Letter of daughter in the days of the first page/literature/epidemic
Daughter's letter in the days of the plague
Mamma!
Death is dancing in the atmosphere, decorating the face of the face, the joy of falling on the life of the teeth is not hidden in the horror of death. The sound of life-threatening music is loud, it rotates faster and faster, all around. The cold winds go, man is going to stone, isolation is known.
The color of the sky has changed. Peeps a piece of sky through the little window of my room. The blue has turned into a clay pin. The birds do not even look far away, perhaps they will not be able to get out of the nests. Do not know whether Dana dinka will also pass or not? Will the thirsty go to the pool? Or he too came to man, in the grief of the beginning, he would be forced to isolate himself.
The only tree visible from the window also stands quietly silent. Thinking of smelling death. Will I see the bright faces that used to take coffee bags while reading the newspaper sitting in my shadow? And she was old, but she was very old, who used to walk in the evening with her children's little baby, and she used to talk to me about standing. Life used to dance in these voices and laughter. Who did not know this life?
Day or night, I do not sleep today. As soon as the eyelids fall asleep, the loud ringing siren of the ambulance enters the window. My heart begins to yearn for a patient longing for breath in an ambulance. Another invoice another seventy receipt.
My doctor's friends have become unconscious at the hands of work, insomnia and the horror of death. They work and cry, they cry and they work that there is no place to keep the bodies in the hospitals. Death in New York is playing holi, this city full of life is dying.
For a few days, I did not want to cook food that hunger has lost somewhere. To maintain a relationship with the body, some things are enough, so sometimes a piece of double bread and sometimes juice or biscuits.
Today, while reading Pakistan's news, you all missed a lot and all that is tied to your memories. He came to my house to make a humble and call me in his soft voice, moist my eyes. When you went to make coffee in the kitchen, the packet of your sent was visible. Do not let me know what happened in my heart. It may be possible to break this state of grief and disappointment.
And know what happened, as soon as haleem developed, it showed your appearance behind the rising steam. She was the voice of you as if you were calling me from the dining table. One moment it felt like you were here, somewhere with your laughter. But I know you are not here. This is my isolation that plays with me.
Mom, tell me one thing!
If I survived, I wouldn't be the one who was. Something is left inside,
The eyes help out some melt. I know the truth of life. And I wonder how everything changes in a few days. I am the eyewitness of this game of death, mother! And now I'm not the one who was.
Could not call you for a long time, be ashamed. There is so much noise of voices around me that I do not like my voice too. I want to be quiet nowadays!
Hopefully you will understand my point, take care of yourself and do not forget the precautions. Naseem aunty will take care, she is our responsibility.
Mom! We will meet again one day! Again to hug each other. God willing!
I hope you will enjoy my article.
I will be thankful for you guys @Mehar80
Wonderfull. I appreciate your writing