They often kissed each other. The reader made sure that they never do.
A reader from the eighties with its niche bookmark.
About P.C :- You might catch her hitchhiking at night, striking conversation with toddlers, and annihilating heteronormativity and sexism.
To be able to light up your own fire,
May be a little commitment shall help.
January is turning out to be quite breezy and the sky seems to be illuminated with shades of crimson and scarlet. One of my school going cousin observes the sky and remarks:
For me the sky is much more of a canvas which I can paint on.
Obviously imagination will be my brush. And in this way I don’t have to buy any colours.
“Every endeavour, every kiss, every stab in the heart, every letter home, every leaving, is a ransack of what’s in front of us in the service of what’s lost.” -Jeanette Winterson
All thoughts lose their momentum and
Time slows down just for this moment
While embracing this stillness
Alhough this is ephermal
But there’s only you, the other and none.