“At the end of a long waiting line, I face myself and I count the years past my wrinkles. In the ticking of time, I have memorized the way you come alive, slowly burning away little of what is left of this life.
You are a dying metaphor and I am poetry running out of ideas. We make love once in a while and the papers scream in solemn silence when we leave in the morning.There is beauty in this kind of living. Words are infinite. And yet when I sit down to write, I do not know where to begin.
I do not know where I begin”
Location- Umiam Lake, Meghalaya