Dear Mumbai
for four years, I have called you home. my roots might lie elsewhere, but here i learnt to fly. here i learnt to never compromise on the things which matter, or the people who do. here i fell in love,
Stranger Land – part II
Yellow green ochre brown laying a silent trail to the crown where the air meets the sky. The thunder and rainkiss before the mirrorlake ripples to the dreams of clouds with a bit of coffee smoke mixed up in it
stranger land – part I
Patchwork cobblestone roads colours and lights and prisms of goldenhued footsteps and smiles of deep blue skies with a chance of rain. Courts of pigeons in flight from everyday mundane leaving momentary fairytales in their wake. Nobody notices but Tunes
Perfect
I don’t need perfect, for perfect is a dead end which will never start another story, another road. i want where winding roads begin and meet; with hot coffee and mittens, dusks like a carpet across the sky, and patchy
