The Message That Flew
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In a quiet village nestled between the mountains, there lived a younger female named Hala.
She cherished to jot down no longer emails, no longer texts simply phrases on paper. But she didn’t have a smartphone, or a pc, or maybe a mailbox.
All she had become an old notebook... And a pen.
Every day, Hala could write letters
To human beings she imagined.
Sometimes to a friend she’d by no means met,
Sometimes to her father who had traveled a ways and never again,
And every so often… to someone who hadn’t been born but, but she was hoping would locate her words at some point.
She might fold every letter carefully, write on the envelope:
"To Whoever Is Searching,"
then tie it to a paper bird she crafted by way of hand, and permit it fly from the pinnacle of a windy hill.
The villagers laughed.
"Do you honestly think a person will read your letters?"
But Hala could smile and say:
"Maybe no one will.
But maybe… simply one person will.
And that’s sufficient for me."
☁ One Gray Day
On a cloudy afternoon, she sent off a new bird.
In the letter, she wrote:
"I don’t understand who you are, but I wish your day is heat, and your heart is calm.
If you feel alone, understand that somewhere on this international, someone idea of you."
She watched the paper fowl disappear into the grey sky, and sat quietly because the wind whispered via the bushes.
✉ The Reply
Days surpassed. Then weeks. And then…
A letter arrived.
Sealed smartly.
New handwriting.
No go back cope with.
Inside it said:
"Your message located me after a protracted adventure.
I wanted it more than you may have imagined.
Thank you for remembering someone you by no means knew."
At the lowest changed into a easy signature:
"The One Who Found the Bird."
From that day on, Hala didn’t simply write lonely letters.
She wrote for the complete world.