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Strumming strings. Fingers falling perfectly on the  smooth wood forming the all to familiar arrangement. Sweet voices mingling with the melodies. All of these things pleased me as I watched in amazement.

I was in my room . Then, my classmates sang with the magical instrument . The distinct sound they made lured me to the clutches of the guitar. Pretty soon, I was strumming and singing with bruised fingers and high spirits.

My sister was patient enough to teach me the ways of this stringed instrument. And from experience, I can say that it was damn hard. Deep scars were evident and scattered about my soft, baby hands.Patience was really a big problem since I would always pout and cry in frustration. But that did not stop me. 

All day, the guitar was found in my eager hands. I just can’t get enough of the way I mimic the sounds made by my favorite artists. I was flabbergasted by the way my fingers automatically found their places at the carved piece of wood. My life was filled with music as I continued to strum and strum through life.

Through sunrise and sunset, I’ll keep singing and playing the guitar. I doubt I’ll ever stop. There’s just something about way my fingers hit the strings that touches the innermost of my being. It seems like the waves of sound speak directly into my heart.

For guitar lovers everywhere, what do you think? What is this incredible link I feel between the guitar and me?



Hdog was any ordinary dog you can see wandering in the roads. But as the famous line from the Little Prince goes “I am just an ordinary fox. But If you tame me, I’ll be different than any other fox,”. In my limited understanding, I’ll  strive to tell you how this blue-eyed puppy captured my heart .

I remember when I first saw him. He was laying there, suckling on his mother’s breast, as helpless as a blind caterpillar munching on leaves. My heart immediately went out for him. I looked deep into his eyes and held his supple skin close to my arms. He whimpered and I held him tightly, whispering him lullabies. His blue eyes met mine and we looked into each other for a long time. I held him long after that. Dazed and amazed.

Time passed. Still, that perfect connection grew . He would run as fast as lighting with his brawny legs. His fur growing dusty brown.  Time was against us. But time made this love grow stronger.
  
Whenever someone would threaten to hurt me, he would come bursting, showing his fangs. Never will he stop growling and barking until the stranger leaved. I was scared at those times.  But as those moments passed, those same vicious teeth nudged me and licked me as I cried. He would twirl his lanky body around me. Looking into my sad eyes, questioning me. I always remember those moments.  Those moments that showed his unending love for me.

His looks were not completely stunning, I admit , but neither was mine. People would look at me in disgust, thinking of how I could love an ugly dog.  “All of you people are scarred on the inside but as may say , uselessly beautiful  , but this dog, this dog is amazing on the inside ’”, I would boast.  They would just stare at me, dumbfounded, and then running off with their expensive perfume and  flimsy clothes.

I know these feelings are shared throughout the world to people whose hearts were tamed. I know that many people also ask these questions. I know that I’m never alone.

Now again, as he looks into my eyes again, through those wondrous eyes. And as he cries with me during lonely nights. And as I pat his matted brown fur . I know that this ,splendid but ordinary, gentle but hardworking dog stole my heart and it was apparent that I also stole his.