Page 5 - Litterateur magazine October 2021
P. 5

October 2021 , Edition 15
                                                                                                             October 2021 , Edition 15
                                                                                                            October 2021 , Edition 15
                                                                                                              LL i t t e r a t e u r
                                                                                                              Litterateur
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                                                         EDITORIAL
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                  The dusk came down to the sea. The
                  shore  looked  deserted.  The  waves                                        Mussels
                  still rattled into the shore in quest of
                  finding someone. I hung around the
                  beach.  I  too  could  not  finish  my
                  combing.  I  am  combing  the  damp
                  shore for mussels. Encountering one,

                  Encountering  one,  I  will  pick  it  up

                  and  open  it.  The  mystic  formula  of                                 Shajil Anthru, India

                  my dream realization is hidden in a                            A  burst  of  laughter  would  be
                  mussel.  Yes!  My  father  once  told.                         the  answer.  Waves  with  love

                  “When  life  become  wretched  and                             and empathy will come rolling

                  miserable go to the beach. There you                           towards  my  feet  and  caress

                  will  find  the  way  to  realize  your                        me. How many years! Only the
                  dreams.  It  is  in  a  mussel.  "  That's                     sea  and  me.  Occasionally,  the

                  why  I've  been  here  for  the  last  few                     shower  and  the  hurricane  will

                  days  Picking  and  exploring  each                            shatter the shore.
                  mussel  I  step  on.  I  am  aware  that

                  others  call  me  crazy.  Had  you

                  noticed  that  the  sea  had  never
                  stopped his search of his destiny? So

                  why  should  I  stop.  Occasionally  I

                  chat  with  the  waves.  “Waves.  Did

                  you ever tug my mussel into the sea
                  and hide it in your bosom”




















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