If I think, what I see, what I perceive are just various states of mind, I may very well say boldly, longing is the origin. The footsteps we take, that just penetrates the ground in a tiny, imperceptible movement, the hot cup of coffee by the window that remains unclaimed even after the rain has stopped long ago, the fresh smell of the soil, when the sky decides to touch the earth in a frenzy of poems that reminds me of the smell of the last book I was reading, all feels somehow surreal yet connected to this feeling of longing. Infact, I am not sure if I long for them or they for me.
A sunset full of shades was piercing the sky last day, a slow progress that touches the horizon but steadily moments before it pulls a blanket over its head only to leave behind the silver…
View original post 353 more words