Setara bibi under the lamp post - Literature - observerbd.com : The glittering city aroundLife is rich with red, blue light of neonWide sky over the headPieces of moonlight, scatteredAnd in that splashed pieces of meteorThose are taken by the scientists of NASASo height the civilization reachesThis city is the flow of happiness nowSome men like us pass the wayWith frustration
1 . O... U... . T... A A ll stories begin with ‘Once upon a time’. And that’s just what this story is all about: what happened, once upon a time. Once you were so small that, even standing on tiptoes, you could barely reach your mother’s hand. Do you remember? Your own history might begin like this: ‘Once upon a time there was a small boy’ – or a small girl – ‘and that small boy was me.’ But before that you were a baby in a cradle. You won’t remember that, but you know it’s true. Your father and mother were also small once, and so was your grandfather, and your grandmother, a much longer time ago, but you know that too. After all, we say: ‘They are old.’ But they too had grandfathers and grandmothers, and they, too, could say: ‘Once upon a time’. And so it goes on, further and further back. Behind every ‘Once upon a time’ there is always another. Have you ever tried standing between two mirrors? You should. You will see a great long line of shiny mirrors, ea