From soy-ink colours to the freshly printed smell of its pages in the first flush of the morning make this up an early morning love affair. No matter how ephemeral, one just loves to catch a whiff of these flimsy broadsheet pages, holding them in one라이브 바카라 own hands with utmost care feels blissful. This assiduity follows naturally as the reader begins to touch and feel the warmth of these black and white sheets.
The delicate canvas looks surreal. As soon as this black serif font catches the reader라이브 바카라 attention, one begins to bring it even closer to the eyes. Every day our keen eyes see these flimsy sheets that open wide with this folio in bold boasting of all these years of its credibility and readership. It feels like the most beautiful affair on earth.
The cellulose smell lasting on one라이브 바카라 hands has been a routine affair. Unlike other pursuits that might lose charm over the years, newspaper reading still brings that same adrenaline rush every morning.
I'd often use my claw clip to hold its pages from falling out. This regimen feels like it's dipped in antiquity meant to keep us closer to the times when the first paper was made out of hemp waste.
These sheets are the points where the latitudes of politics and longitudes of general interest intersect each other. It라이브 바카라 a readers’ paradise, cheaper than the ingenious gadgets of our times. No matter how flimsy, these pages have endured centuries of freedom movements, battles, protests, declarations and epic treaties, sometimes even summing up epic tomes. 바카라 웹사이트
It라이브 바카라 not mere news but an advancing realm, a breathing entity that is delivered at the readers’ doorsteps every morning. The unstapled pages sautéed with national and international happenings are served with an equal measure of trustworthiness. This 7 A.M. pursuit has long served as the cradle of different systems of thought — cosmos for zillions of its readers.바카라 웹사이트
From book excerpts and reviews to views, it's an exciting start to the day. In a world where Vincent Van Gogh once uttered these final words, “The sadness will last forever,” this 7 A.M. pursuit of ours is a celestial chase.
(Hina Fatima Khan is a known multimedia journalist.)
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