Let us walk through these woolly clouds and blaze through…
Insipid words and unpalatable promises settled on the roof of your mouth.
I licked them clean, a layer of distaste on my tongue.
Words hidden between the cracks of your lips.
I weaved them together to tell this story, one brush against them at a time.
You sighed and yearnings like specks of stardust huddled to form your curved vertebrae.
I dotted them with kisses, thirty-three.
Like dusty dunes the surface of your skin rose and fell.
I let my fingers traverse every inch in unfeigned wonder, a journey of volumes.
A whorl of maddening dreams, a chasm of defying thoughts.
In your iris I saw the magic nebulae, my cornucopia.
Crop Top – Forever 21
Overalls – Topshop
Photography – Anagha Bhave
Once every few months, I find the demons of existential crisis slowly creeping up on me. Almost everything I passionately believe in is suddenly punctuated with a question mark. The utter meaningless of this constant hustle called life and the eventual mere nothingness of it all is a rhetorical. It’s all a blur. But then this too shall pass. It always does.
These images were shot one early morning, in a little island, on my last day at Sri Lanka. And it only reminds me life is best lived at the beach.
Till the next post,