Beside an old, hoary man,
And I tell him all —
That I am broken,
Splintered into a million shards,
Bereft of even the faintest tinge
Of hope and dreams.
He sighs,
Raises his silvery brows,
And fixes his pair
Of steely eyes
Straight at me,
Then softly whispers
A tale so true —
How he carved
And chiseled down
A fine life of his own,
Out of this dark,
Troubled world.
Then I rise,
And leave,
With head held low,
In utter shame.
Pages and perspectives captured in the quiet of the library that now breathes. A modest collection of books that never fails to surprise with curious covers, forgotten notes, and shelves full of serendipity. This is where stories giggle in whispers and learning hides behind every spine, just waiting to be found. It also takes us back to childhood corners, sunlit reading hours, and the rustle of pages turned with wonder. In these frames live memories of minds shaped by silence and stories, and the quiet pursuit of knowledge that continues to anchor our shared intellectual journey.
TWS Library
Do you wanna pencil your thoughts? 
Treasure tomb
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| If only Aladdin were into books! |
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| Everybody wants to die in peace, but not many live in peace. |
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| Everything in this space is alive. |
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| Even she can't resist to hoard up! |
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| You can be the yolk to this egg. |
Light, shadows, and the silent stories in between — a visual diary from Ulladulla, Batemans Bay, and beyond.
Lights, Lines, and Life is now live:
