My son and new girl who lives on west coast
She has traveled 2 times already to spend time with him. They spent the weekend in NY NY.
She is 5 years older but they really hit it off . they have a lot fun together I can tell he's happy lol , its his first grown up relationship . I just pray for him like I do mY daughter be smart. #bestwishes#TKOKOCENKO#youtuber#subscribe#wwe#likebutton
Mohanlal did not press like after reading the poem, he just nodded in appreciation as if that were enough, as if the writer was sitting right across him waiting for his nod of approval. Mohanlal was yet not aware that not pressing like had its repercussions, it could cost someone's job somewhere, livelihoods depended on it; the digital atmosphere had still not replaced the blue sky, it would take a couple of generations after Mohanlal for that shift to happen.
Farhan was fired from his job because he couldn't live up to his promises to the author, he couldn't drive results for his book launch; he couldn't garner the number of likes required for an entry into Pulitzer and now the award was forever out of reach of the writer. Farhan in all his infinite digital wisdom did not understand that driving traffic does not mean creating an audience, you can take chicken to every doorstep but you can't make them eat it if they were vegetarians, or simply not hungry.
Amartya sat glum, the Pulitzer out of his reach, all his troubles washed back ashore one rubble at a time, as he stared blankly across the water into the always blamed universe, with a single question that why did it have to be him. And then he cursed the gods standing in the middle of his debris - all his debts strewn around him with all the time wasted; all of it weighed over one million kilograms, but it didn't occur to his mind even once that his handwriting could be weak and his poetry could look frail to a lot people.
Mohanlal finished the second poetry and raised his eyebrows in appreciation, he muttered remarkable under his breath and nodded in approval again, and then swiped to the next poem.
He did not press like.