Everybody has his own home, his own place to return after a working day. A nice house to live in, a place to be surrounded by family members, and of most importance, a space to spend part of his life. That's why I dearly call my house "a crib" since deeply in my heart, it's more than just a house, but something watching me grow up and fullfilling me with memories of my family.
Deep in a small alley of Bach Mai street, my greenish colored house flares in an either cool yet friendly first look. …
- Brave New World, Aldous Huxley, Chando and Wittus, 1964 (originally published in 1932), 213 pp.
- My Crib
- The Journey of Odysseus
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