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.
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.