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Falling from the cycle
I will speak. You will hear me someday. I have read enough books and played with enough guns to know that this can’t be it. There’s always that last bullet that you don’t manage to miss. And you fall, hoping that this is the fall that saves you. I remember falling from my cycle. It would be the same. That sudden change of view and the distinct touch of the road. I don’t remember my fall. Is it the same? Do you also die missing the moment that kills you?
Do you go from alive to dead without dying? Do you understand your death only after you’ve finished dying?
Saudamini Deo, a literature student, is an amateur photographer and writer (of sorts).
Weaving the waves
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Saudamini Deo, a literature student, is an amateur photographer and writer (of sorts).
Bokeh
And when I take off my glasses, everything turns bokeh. The beauty is the out-of-focus at times. I am wearing a woolen cap made in Iceland. What are you doing? The blur is a beautiful thing, you know. It tells us we are there somewhere, just not close enough. People look like thumbprints from here, but you must be there. I will tell you about all the books I’ve read and lost, things that didn’t last, and films I still haven’t found on torrent. Oh, it’s okay. There is time. There always is. I know you will like Adventures of Neznaika. Let me buy a copy in the meantime. It’s difficult to find them these days. But I remember a store I found with an old boyfriend. An entire childhood in a dusty room. It’s like too much water in water colour… every shade blurs into another and I know I will be another blur but when you see me finally… don’t kiss me, turn into a salt flake. I will eat you with my mulberry.
Saudamini Deo, a literature student, is an amateur photographer and writer (of sorts).
qarrtsiluni 