In the quiet of early morning, they slip the world through our door. Seasons don’t matter. Chilly winters, sweaty summers, unfriendly rains – they do their job unfailingly with the sacredness of a ritual. Without the newspapers they deliver, the morning tea doesn’t taste the same. You feel an absence hard to explain. And yet, newspaper vendors hardly occupy a speck of space in our minds.
from Times of India https://ift.tt/2y7M7uu
Tuesday, March 24, 2020
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Hello, my name is Jack Sparrow. I'm a 50 year old self-employed Pirate from the Caribbean.
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