| Of A Home | The pink walls that smell of candies, butterscotch ice creams and the sugar coated cakes which mum bakes, the yellow pages which intoxicate me to burry my nose into it and just let me breathe, breathe till the wreath hangs onto my grave, but that's fairly impossible for the parts and parcel of life do not accept that. ( caption) | Of A Home | The pink walls that smell of candies, butterscotch ice creams and the sugar coated cakes which mum bakes, the yellow pages which
