The wrinkled hands of my mother gently caress through my hair and make me ponder whether I remind of touchwood; hope for a better future. The imbalance of her body tightly clutches my arm, as if I am the traverse…
Throughout my education in different institutes, I have been to the counselling room just once. The counsellor asked two other students and me from our sophomore class to visit her office to let us know that we have to do…