It is strange to look at this skyline of mine. I write from a Bombay where under a pale sky the bright roofs of tenements have departed. The walls are beige and muddied brown, the windows absent, smudged like kohl. Within them another summer of restraint and isolation. An unwanted stillness.
033 - Letter on a Summer Afternoon
033 - Letter on a Summer Afternoon
033 - Letter on a Summer Afternoon
It is strange to look at this skyline of mine. I write from a Bombay where under a pale sky the bright roofs of tenements have departed. The walls are beige and muddied brown, the windows absent, smudged like kohl. Within them another summer of restraint and isolation. An unwanted stillness.