It calls to you from the empty space beyond railings. It's there, waiting, between the cars, tangled with the motorbikes, in every gulf of city road and every chasm of dark highway whose surface sings at the stroke of approaching wheels like the strings of a double-bass. It weaves long, slow spells around the piling trash and unwashed sheets of the cubicle you live in, until it convolves the world into a point of fiction; until your bowels don't have anything left to process and the clawing of your belly seems as much a dream as anything else. Because you have to, inasmuch as you have to do anything, you walk on by.

Date: <2016-05-10 Tue> [2015-04-05 Sun]

Author: Sahiti Chedalavada

Created: 2020-12-14 Mon 02:14