A hard Diwali.
In February, I was completely prepared for the long haul. By November, I had turned into a floppy balloon floating on water.
A month of shadows
I slacked and moped around, whined about being creatively blocked, and emotionally drained. June was a month of shadows.
The teal sky welcomes its newest pal– a bird, in place of airplanes; seen through wrought iron windows, against the background of curry leaves simmering in oil, and runners whizzing past toddlers learning to ride their tiny bicycles.
I breathed fire. I revered the sun. I wore my passion in my heart, and swore my life to my art. I danced to the tune of cackling embers.
The carwash garage roars in the evening sky. the pulled beef patty frizzles in the spattering oil and the ravioli receives a shower of cheese gratings – melting and merging.
Arrival in the city
Kiara was jolted awake from her deep slumber.
She took it out of her bag, and carefully opened the edges, thrusting a ballpoint pen and slowly rolling it into the seal flap so as to not disturb the pretty red envelope, and hopefully the letter inside it.