"A GLASS OF WISKEY AND A THOUSAND OF THOUGHTS "
THE QUITE PEACE OF MAYBE The evening arrived gently, as it always does. Not with noise. Not with grand announcements. Just a slow fading of daylight, a soft breeze moving through the trees, and a sky surrendering itself to the colours of dusk. I sat alone with a glass of whiskey resting quietly in my hand, watching another day slowly disappear beyond the horizon. There is something about evenings that makes a person honest. The morning belongs to responsibilities. The afternoon belongs to work. But the evening belongs to thoughts. It belongs to memories that return uninvited and conversations that happen only within the walls of our own minds. As I sat there, taking small sips from the glass, I found myself thinking about life and all the strange ways it unfolds. Some memories have a peculiar habit of visiting us when the world becomes silent. They appear without warning, carrying pieces of old laughter, forgotten moments, and faces we once knew too well. And then there ...