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Stories Flow Like Water

Some stories aren’t written in books; they flow quietly, like rivers. This riverside has carried countless tales, though none are written on its banks. The water drifts endlessly, brushing past stones, as though it knows the art of holding secrets. And across the fields, the temple rises, glowing softly against the horizon, its silence speaking…
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The Background People
Through the hustle and bustle of the marketplace, the old man cycled his way out with his wagon following behind. His first contributor was the old woman who lived at the very end of the slums. She had brought her cardboard collection, which she spent the early hours of the morning collecting. The old man…
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The destination that he mends

Every morning, He leaves his home behind, the same lane, which keeps him together, and not knowing where the day will carry him. For him, every passenger is a story, every destination an offering. He believes that when someone sits in his rickshaw, it isn’t just a customer because they keep his wheels moving, his…
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She Wait’s

It’s a simple world out there. They don’t belong to each other in the way people expect — no collar, no cage, no name tag. But somehow, they all belong to the same. Perhaps it is because the girl sees her. Truly sees her, not as a stray, not as a burden, not as a…
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The Bird Who Looked Too Far
There once was a small bird who lived by the ocean. Every morning, she would perch on the highest branch and watch the sun spill its colors across the waves. She loved her home it was warm, familiar, and full of gentle winds. But one day, while listening to travelers talk, she heard about the…

