What can I possibly say to myself in 5 years? I don’t even know where I’m going to live! I left home at 18 and have moved ever since. At present, I do not feel at home anywhere. Clouded by anxiety and the state of the world, I do not know if I will ever find stability – my home and tribe. I hope I do; and this yearning made up the first section of my letter.
soundly, she sleeps beneath the glinting moon, amidst the changing forms of golden sand-dunes.
eerily, the thick darkness melds into brilliant light, blending truth and doubt in lines painted wide.
A simple poetry attempt after a while.
We connected strongly over our love of travel; captured in films and preserved in memory; rose gardens, green meadows, fluorescent seas - the many aromas of a lively summer floating with the breeze.
A phantom in cold flesh and blood - this frail body, a stranger to my soul; thousand feet under a bottomless void, there is no remedy to make me whole.
They say that the old psychiatric ward for special children, located around 40 mins by train from Kolkata, is haunted. Slashed barbed wire, overgrown moss, a stale damp odor kept all visitors - the curious and the skeptical, away from its vicinity. The families who had their children in the ward were shunned from society… Continue reading Harun, Are We Still Friends?
Her sandstone walls were high and mighty. What dark spell could render a place so cold? Who brought upon the curse of eternal winter robbing the spindly trees of green, then gold?
How evocative was each dream of old where memory and vision would raise painted tribute to each fantastical lore as I had imagined in the olden days.
I keep an eye out for the perfect leaf among the gilded ground; nature’s raiment, worn to perfection, radiates beauty all around.
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