The flashbulbs.
The endless shutters closing.
The impenetrable
series of intrusions,
closing in.
The migration
from small town,
into the city.
The rainfall falling.
Pitta patta, pitta patta.
Closing windows
to keep out the rain.
Drying wet hair
with a towel.
Smelling sweet fragrant
otherness in the air.
Flashbulbs and endless
shutters closing.
April 18, 2018
April 18th, 2018 at 9:39 am
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April 18th, 2018 at 8:49 am
Thanks
April 18th, 2018 at 9:52 am
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April 18th, 2018 at 8:58 am
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