More than two weeks have passed by and the note exchanges continued until one day he wide-opened the double folds to find a poetic missive. It read — |”In the distraction of this madding fever! O benefit of ill, now I find true That better is by evil still made…

|” Are you scared of your wings being cropped or tired at the thought of stitching it up and flying again ? Aren’t you aware that its easier to dream but tough to execute them? “— SOL| It was seventh morning and I wasn’t expecting for anyone to notice it…

| “Why do they teach us to fly high & then cut off our wings?” “Why do we let them do so to prove our love and loyalty?” — LUNA| The note fell from an old book. Agham was never a library person. He always spoke as if it’s better…