Mr. Aslam is my neighbour. He is a young man of 35. He lives in front of my house. He is very kind to all his friends. He has two sons and only one daughter. He belongs to a noble family. He is a highly educated man. He is also our teacher. He is . He teaches us English and Urdu. He has full command on his subject He teaches us with love and care. His method of teaching is very good. All the students like him very much. He is also our class in charge. He comes to school in time. He is the right hand of headmaster in all his activities.
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After our honeymoon in Hawaii, I spent hours arranging all of our photos perfectly in a wedding album. Finding no satisfaction in it, I never looked at it again. Six months later, just before my father died, I gave him the pretty picture he wanted, my forgiveness, but I didn't mean it and I still don't. I cheated on my husband within months of our marriage and divorced him by our second anniversary. But years afterward, my mother still refused to take the wedding photos down off of her mantle. “They’re such beautiful pictures,” she would say. Beautiful, perfect and utterly meaningless.