With a distance of time ,what had looked white would turn vague and gray by growing years- our wading knee-deep muddy rain waters in the streets by 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.

The walls stretched interminably to a white sky ,hiding bush and snakes in them gently rising, feet shuffling to rustling sounds of dry leaves. The squirrels had built bridges for man-gods and earned three dark stripes on their backs. 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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