Bruised, calloused, vulnerable, You leave me in shreds again. To…
A tornado of thoughts soaked in mist and a whirlwind of yearnings drenched.
Days enveloped in the warmth of petrichor.
Sweltering nights dipped in shades of blues and gray.
The ink blotted sky, a canvas.
Slanted and angular, circular ripples on the dewy window pane.
Like a stone tossed into the pond.
Bolt of silver screeching across the starless roof.
A flash from the bygones.
Triumphant winds. A broken umbrella.
Moisture laden kisses stolen and sealed.
The draining pink of hibiscus pressed between an old book.
Paper boats that long sailed away.
Top and Shorts – VeroModa
Wedges – Catwalk
Umbrella – Thrifted
Photography – Monisha Ajgaonkar
There’s something about monsoon. A bevy of adjectives that just fit right. While most in Bombay find a reason to complain, the hopeless romantic in me can’t help but fall for the magnificence and marvel that this season is. These images were shot on one such overcast morning, shortly after it rained. What followed was an indulgent breakfast – warm waffles with maple syrup and cream cheese which you saw a picture of here.
Can’t wait for monsoon to hit the city in all its splendour.
Until the next post (travel diary from my last holiday!),
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