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“Stillness and more stillness and the light locked deep inside started to die. It's easy to believe I could go back whenever I desired, jump in the car, drive, and arrive at dawn but the hours stumbling against shadows of darkness could never have arrived at light. We were like the summer journals filled with abstract scribblings on the margins and question marks that we still carried around to the winter and opened once in a while to search for the same ray of warmth only to find emptiness.” — Zeenat Ansari
Stillness and more stillness and the light locked deep inside started to die. It's easy to believe I could go back whenever I desired, jump in the car, drive, and arrive at dawn but the hours stumbling against shadows of darkness could never have arrived at light. We were like the summer journals filled with abstract scribblings on the margins and question marks that we still carried around to the winter and opened once in a while to search for the same ray of warmth only to find emptiness.