Dreamy Whispers and Smiling Face
Time was pregnant; and the stories needed to be told; and listened to; and exchanged. And then finally fate would decide. With only a faint moonlight throwing a shaft of silver on the painting of the attic-study, the painting with crowded houses and the dull sun on the ground, the night listened. Charoen whispered, her mouth on his mouth. “Dream 1: Slight drizzle, raindrops falling in hand; Dream 2: Self-portrait of Leonardo Da Vinci; Dream 3. Vision of woman with long and loose hair, with orange coloured sari with green borders; Dream 4. Boy of three, four, five, ten and thirteen years of age.” “The soft drizzle,” Rohan whispered, “shows life of inner peace. But all desires cannot be fulfilled as the rain drops melt away which you, Charoen, wanted them to remain as drops.” He stopp
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