With distance of time ,what had looked white turned gray by growing years our wading in knee-deep muddy rain waters in the streets along white walls missing in places ,the men who tucked white lungis in the waists,the coins that felt round to fingers in pockets, the rivers dancing round heads of mountains.Strange birds sang in the sky deaths of lives.

With more distance of time our eyes slowly fell and the body hurried past closing our spaces.The distances are now small, the skyline close.


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