New umbilical cord Quotes, Status, Photo, Video

Het Modi

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●Lucifer● Heaven turned to hell before his eyes, even before he had opened them. He observed all that, which one shouldn't. The death of his twin sist

●Lucifer● Heaven turned to hell before his eyes, even before he had opened them. He observed all that, which one shouldn't. The death of his twin sist

Chitra Iyer

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Promises and its shades A promise sits on my chest Too heavy to carry It has traveled from my throat Where it was strongly sworn It barely lay on my chest When I pe

Promises and its shades A promise sits on my chest Too heavy to carry It has traveled from my throat Where it was strongly sworn It barely lay on my chest When I pe

The Dream Doodler

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... 🌠|| Tumko bhi hae khabar, mujhko bhi hae pata,

... 🌠|| Tumko bhi hae khabar, mujhko bhi hae pata,

Pia India(Priya)

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Read the description! She gets periods too!!! There are countless female migrant workers who have been walking since weeks, some might have got their periods du

Read the description! She gets periods too!!! There are countless female migrant workers who have been walking since weeks, some might have got their periods du

The Dream Doodler

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To my next door, resides a country at war, you may mistake the smokes out of it to be from factories, but they are of inflammables. At eve

To my next door, resides a country at war, you may mistake the smokes out of it to be from factories, but they are of inflammables. At eve

The Dream Doodler

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Writing this for Jasmine, hehe. Don't have deep knowledge about Punjab but I love their culture. ❤️ Just tried. ••••••• ♪♪~ Punjab is a r

Writing this for Jasmine, hehe. Don't have deep knowledge about Punjab but I love their culture. ❤️ Just tried. ••••••• ♪♪~ Punjab is a r

Somya Baranwal

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The next step into the unknown may well be challenging, but any feelings of uncertainty are contained as the creative aspect of being – the purity of life without fear. Not What I Expected As the umbilical cord is cut, the first experience of this existence is not what I expected. I cry and wail in utter co

The next step into the unknown may well be challenging, but any feelings of uncertainty are contained as the creative aspect of being – the purity of life without fear. Not What I Expected As the umbilical cord is cut, the first experience of this existence is not what I expected. I cry and wail in utter co

Ramona Singh

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December 14 I have never attempted to understand this. Why would I have ever done that?   I was only 3 when she passed away. My sister. It wouldn't ha

December 14 I have never attempted to understand this. Why would I have ever done that?   I was only 3 when she passed away. My sister. It wouldn't ha

mau jha

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“Once you choose hope, anything’s possible.” ©mau jha spinal cord

“Once you choose hope, anything’s possible.” ©mau jha spinal cord

Abinesh

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I used to lie on the floor for hours after school with the phone cradled between my shoulder and my ear, a plate of cold rice to my left, my school books to my right. Twirling the cord between my fingers I spoke to friends who recognized the language of our realm. Throats and lungs swollen, we talked into the heart of the night, toying with the idea of hair dye and suicide, about the boys who didn’t love us, who we loved too much, the pang of the nights. Each sentence was new territory, like a door someone was rushing into, the glass shattering with delirium, with knowledge and fear. My Mother never complained about the phone bill, what it cost for her daughter to disappear behind a door, watching the cord stretching its muscle away from her. Perhaps she thought it was the only way she could reach me, sending me away to speak in the underworld. As long as I was speaking she could put my ear to the tenuous earth and allow me to listen, to decipher. And these were the elements of my Mother, the earthed wire, the burning cable, as if she flowed into the room with me to somehow say, Stay where I can reach you, the dim room, the dark earth. Speak of this and when you feel removed from it I will pull the cord and take you back towards me. ©Abinesh The Cord

I used to lie on the floor for hours after school with the phone cradled between my shoulder and my ear, a plate of cold rice to my left, my school books to my right. Twirling the cord between my fingers I spoke to friends who recognized the language of our realm. Throats and lungs swollen, we talked into the heart of the night, toying with the idea of hair dye and suicide, about the boys who didn’t love us, who we loved too much, the pang of the nights. Each sentence was new territory, like a door someone was rushing into, the glass shattering with delirium, with knowledge and fear. My Mother never complained about the phone bill, what it cost for her daughter to disappear behind a door, watching the cord stretching its muscle away from her. Perhaps she thought it was the only way she could reach me, sending me away to speak in the underworld. As long as I was speaking she could put my ear to the tenuous earth and allow me to listen, to decipher. And these were the elements of my Mother, the earthed wire, the burning cable, as if she flowed into the room with me to somehow say, Stay where I can reach you, the dim room, the dark earth. Speak of this and when you feel removed from it I will pull the cord and take you back towards me. ©Abinesh The Cord