The Blooming Rose
Written on
If only we’d stop each time and smell the rose. If not that at least slow down to watch it sway and smile at its graceful dance with the wind and bees and the butterflies; blooming, welcoming them in, selflessly gifting its scent to everyone who merely passes by and cares to breathe in.
Nazreen Fazal
Writer, Wife, Mother, Indian, Muslim. So many labels, one me. I write, I rant, I ramble in order to make sense of everything happening around. Join me on this journey as I share snippets of my life, going about work, my parenting wins and fails, and the murky waters that's long distance marriage.
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