I’ve been sick this week, & my brain keeps dipping its fingertips into rainbows, bubbles & my one year old cousin’s toothless grin. There’s something so tragic about knowing this moment is going to fade away into a whisper: never gone, but never heard again. I tend to gravitate towards melancholy & blue paints when I’m not working at full capacity; it’s always so easy to sink than it is to rise, love.
There’s a gentle breeze wafting through the window, & I resist the urge to curl my hair behind my ear. I blow out a breath, & zip up my bags. Delhi University released its first cut-off list today, & it’s a haunted / hopeful song. It’s the same song sung over & over again like a symphony stuck striking the same stroke. Here’s a shivery whisper in the wind: I hope it rows your ship to land.
In other news, my poem “hold still my beating heart, we can fly” has been selected for publication in Ayaskala’s inaugural issue. The lovely folks over at Headcanon Magazine are also working on their first issue: The Bells. Submissions are still open, & we would love to find your work in our inbox.
You can listen to the latest playlist ‘flowers in your hair’ right here.
Thank you for being here. I’m grateful for your presence.
Have a great day, love.