Pakistani Showbiz



Author: Sajjad Haider Yulderm

This crowd was often seen on the side of the street of Power. The laborers, the beads, the boys’ flocks used to play there in the afternoon, interrupting, screaming, screaming.

One day I was passing this route. There was a crowd of boys but it was not a game, but the boys were watching something in the ring and it seemed that they were enjoying the fun.

There was a smile on everyone’s faces. I saw that what they were watching with such passion, was a spectacle that would probably be a day for their entertainment.

One boy, who was most known in the sun, should say that he was almost young, was standing in the middle of the bar, and a little boy was obsessed with it. The older boy was removing it and separating himself from the abuser.

The little boy is eating the nest, the big boy falls to the ground at every stroke, the sound of hi on every nook and every slap comes out of his liver, but he falls, cries, weeps, and lands. Falling on her hair, her face is becoming dusty, but she is again angry with the older boy. Hiccups are bonding, but it is said.

Mine is … Bring. Having said that, a lizard wants to snatch the big boy.

Read More:

Compared to every right, he gets a punch, a kick, which he eats after he stumbles, but then comes forward. The sound of her crying and screaming has gone. His marvels are growing, but he is trying to get his shirt off.

Eventually he got a wrap on which he was smashed and fell to the ground. She was no longer able to get up, was crying out loud on the ground and abusing the older boy. And she shook the enormous shake of the enormous rage of the ravenous little creature that stood in the circle (and who knew the humble in comparison to the force), swinging in laughter.

At the same time a well from the top of the scene, who had just entered an Asian compassionate egg, had just hatched eggs, and had eaten them, and had been hunted, undergoing artificial escape, and a feast filled with madrassa. Mina was trying to beat the power and hay in her wounds, trying to hit the strings with plain iron.

Comments are closed, but trackbacks and pingbacks are open.