The Iron Pulse of Distance
The smell of hot metal always brings me back to the train tracks behind my childhood home. It is a sharp, ozone-heavy scent that clings to the back of the throat, tasting faintly of pennies and dry, sun-baked dust. When a train passes, the…
The Salt on the Skin
The air near the ocean has a weight to it, a damp, heavy velvet that clings to the back of the throat. I remember the feeling of sand between my toes—not the dry, shifting kind, but the cold, packed earth near the tide line that yields just…
Take Me Home by Joy Acharyya
This photo was taken at Gadiara, West Bengal, India. I was searching for a different kind of frame and suddenly got this one. This photo is indirectly dedicated to all the fairy tales and other story book I read during my childhood days. A childhood…