tharindra galahena


When I was having a tea in an evening in a small restaurant near a busy road,
a man came and set in front of me with some food that he had just bought.

I looked at his face without any particular interest just to see if I knew him or seen him before.

But I was shocked to see his face, that looks just like an egg shell, pale and cold as the wind that sings the midnight song,
I saw no emotion no curved lines of happiness no worm cheeks, just cold and cold alone.

I looked around to see

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