An elderly woman who was traipsing with
the help of a stick stopped in the middle of the road; bend down very slowly,
maintaining the balance of her fragile body, picked up something. I observed
her while on my evening walk. On coming closer to her, I noticed she was holding
a dry branch of bougainvillea with lots of long and sharp thorns on it. She threw it in a
nearby dustbin.
In
my heart, I admired her for picking up thorns, which was a tedious job for her
at this age, and for throwing them so that others are not hurt.
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