She wore the Burqa that day, the long veil women who practised her religion wore with a blind sense of loyalty and obligation wore. Wearing her garment like a badge of honor. She walked with her shoulders high, her face cloaked with pride and unwavering strength in the face of adversity and condemnation. From her head to her toe, she was clad in black, yet her heart was more pure than most...The burqa bespoke art! Like a bride walking to meet her groom. No skin showed, her complexion was impossible to tell, even her shape to an extent. But her gracefulness leaked from the silhouetted frame that escaped when the wind blew a kiss towards her direction as it fingered her garment. It would have been beautiful if it wasn't measured from the standard of a biased and fanatical world. Never rushing, she edged on. Her steps, calculated like a last word. She was hidden from the world and to her, the world was to be seen behind a veil. What better way to see a world ...
Serial Ranter