
It is a powercut
In the summer-blazing evening of a deccan city.
A woman weeps in the corner of a dark, lonely home
Where doors have slammed shut on her face
Where a useless fan hangs from the cieling
And days crawl past, dragging her youth along
"All of one's life is a struggle towards that; the narrow path between freedom and belonging. I have sometimes sacrificed freedom in order to belong, but more often I have given up all hope of belonging." Jeanette Winterson
1 comment:
picture perfect
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