tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68681746759243832962011-04-21T17:34:14.669-07:00stories talks our feelingsAnuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03030647162516623464noreply@blogger.comBlogger21100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868174675924383296.post-70533877300876548402007-12-26T07:43:00.000-08:002007-12-26T08:47:28.908-08:00

That is a smallest village. Surrounded deepest forest. A girl born amid nature and village. She doesn’t know her father and Mother. Feels village is father and forest is her mother. Everyday she collects the flowers. And distribute every door of small village Kantapura. For happiness. It’s her one of the hobbies than other.She recognizes her as Jasmine. Elders of the village called her as little

Anuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03030647162516623464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868174675924383296.post-82223320896689809982007-09-27T06:33:00.000-07:002007-09-27T11:37:18.142-07:00

She is really a beautifully girl. Singing well for earn bred and butter on the streets. Every one appreciates her melodious song. Give her some tips for her touchable song.In rainy session she took a corner of the street to sing. Drizzle of rain became a musical instrument for her song. “Once in week heard my beats. Took my breath in your sole. Love to my song because so song” this song is her

Anuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03030647162516623464noreply@blogger.com2