Secluded Life
At times, we wish for solitude, sometimes we live in ashes. We build buildings and roads; and build monuments from ashes. But do we ever wonder that even buildings, roads, highways, and monuments want some solitude. Our footsteps, growing exhalation…
The Pulse of the Stone
There is a secret language spoken in the high places, where the earth remembers its own beginning. It is a dialogue between the unyielding weight of granite and the restless, liquid spirit of the mountain. We often mistake stillness for silence,…
The Weight of Falling Water
The smell of wet stone always brings me back to the monsoon, to the way the air turns heavy and thick enough to swallow. It is a damp, metallic scent that clings to the back of the throat, tasting of minerals and ancient earth. When water moves…