Nothing stays forever, nobody does rather. All the things, people will leave you one fine day and you’ll be a wanderer in solitude again. You’ll moan again silently through the process of decaying. All your richness or poornesswas never really of worth. When you were born, you were dead, respiring to cease. You’re a trader, exchanging everything!
Nupur Walia
cease, decay, existence, life-and-living, solitude, wanderer, worth