Author: W.R. Anbu Mathika

I am not me. I am not original. I am a mixture of a lot of things. I am like the gentle breeze. Like the tranquilityand suspense of the calm ocean. Like the orange-red colour of a hot iron rod. Like the freshness of the first drizzle of the August month. Like a small toddler with gleaming eyes who says, " I will be a writer one day". Like someone who believes that " The pen is mightier than the sword".