So much Krisnachura was strewn on the path, we stomped on them, wind was tousling— so sweet, like a lovely woman, musk of wild champak. The perfume reminds me of exquisite palms, deep coiffure and wild dreams of night. Then I smiled—who was the man crossing the fiction of a reality in the heart of beauty, was it me ?
When the curtain was blown away, a glimpse of her thighs and elegant elbows resting on the desk, on other side who is the man, nonchalant, smoking away his time, why he did not kiss her ? Only eyes met eyes—an ethereal catwalk, an improbable awareness of souls. In the coffee shop, the intangible couple gave me a sudden pang, an anguish stalking me endlessly—they did not belong to this darned earth just came for a jaunt.
I am interested in literature, music and philosophy. Actually i am bent on keeping myself updated on all sorts subjects so that I can put my fingers on the pulsating life.I like to talk with like-minded . life is too short and too long. I am now a writer-completed and working on several literary works and a fiction.
It was a freak accident of epithelium under anaesthesia. You place a window on to a hollow brain. The money makes the monkey out of you. A green light blocks the fish, your memory, to swim in black thoughts. The
Vane glorious and absolutistic, though I defiantly, cavalierly, and blithely attest Yukon bet your (laugh-in) sweet bippy mine acidic breast houses anarchic, anti-poetic ballistic, barbaric, and bubonic cannibalistic demons within thy safely guarded Pandora chest atomic cesium clock timed to