The night had settled in, the darkness encased the rooftop café, the summer breeze brushed our faces, it was time to go home..

Old red walls, dim yellow lights, wooden railings; the deserted stairway was gasping for a story to be told;

Suddenly everything ceased to exist, only the synchronization of heartbeats, till we found our lips crawling in search of unknown territory;

Your eyes glistened with love as my body pushed yours against the wall, moments overlapped, your odour stifled my senses yet again as my lips brushed against your skin tracing your body like a silhouette, numbness grew around us like creepers as we became oblivious to the knowledge of time..

the dull stairway, was now glowing with an intense hue and as you slipped your fingers between the gaps of mine while we walked down the sidewalk, the orange moon peeping amidst the dry leaves and streetlights, whispered, “You’re home!”

Was it a moment or was it eternity?



As i sit back on my lawn, letting the grass grow around me, unknowingly gazing at the streetlight ahead which is rather merely glowing, seducing the melancholic darkness; observing people around me, people sedated by monthly salaries;

And I’m swayed to her thoughts again, just like any other moment. An angel i never dreamed of yet dreamt, a girl i never imagined to love;

So how does she turn my heart into a raging beast, pounding and clutching my ribs with every touch?

For i braved to look beyond her skin, scars and bones, to gaze at her soul, which was a bouquet of all beautiful things which humans couldn’t dare to dream of.

She always questioned herself of not being good enough.


She is art,

She is poetry,

She is better.



♪ it was all yellow ♪

looking out through the window, i kept aside my headphones.. the haze outside waiting to smother my favourite book lying across the bed..

suddenly the heart-rending clouds swept in an epiphany, memories swayed like waves of the ocean and a realization creeped in that I’m nothing more than a mere constellation of tragically forgotten truths..a collection of dreams that were consigned to oblivion..

so, i put on my headphones again, remembering all the times my mom told me i deserved the best..

“Devour me”, i closed my eyes and screamed while a coldplay song gradually started healing all the brokenness within..



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21st century love

what’s more disappointing than falling in love in our generation?

we have all fallen in love through radio waves..made love by tapping a screen..and discovered souls through digital photographs..

and, amidst all of it, unfriended soulmates..



IC- Broke Bibliophile

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Life or death

“There must be something in books, something we can’t imagine, to make a woman stay in a burning house; there must be something there. You don’t stay for nothing.”

― Ray Bradbury


Animesh Photography©

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Fiction smothered life

she believed that somewhere across the darkness kissed void of the universe lived someone who would brave the cosmic rays just to love her..

she was never stalked by the feeling of absence of a friend as fictional characters flirted with her every night..and,although her room was barely 100 sq. feet,however she found her world inside the old wooden bookshelf which stood in the corner of the dilapidated room,the yellow pages in it were dying yet,it kept her alive..

Yes, like her, each one of us are just an omnibus of the books we have fallen in love with!



Artwork by Fernando Vicente

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Graveyard of broken dreams

I craved a love so deep,

that when our souls locked hands, even affection couldn’t slip through..

but, our world, where all that love does is weep, you & i, he & she, all making love under the lamp of our own ego, and all we ever did, was hold the sword that would defend us by the sharp end..

and, now as I dwell in my castle of loneliness..i still crave for the smear of your lust spread across my bedsheet, which was once our voyage to infinity..

every night, as the curtain of darkness fell upon us, the moon silenced the earth to listen to your 2 a.m secrets & fetishes..

yet amidst all the envy & stale dreams, I swear that the dust that I am returned to, to even the withered flowers that will once decorate my tomb will love you entirely, from the taste of your sweat to the collarbone from which it dripped from..



(photography and writing both mine)

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