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“The scent of sunlight peers through apexes of mountains and a compost of water hyacinths. A name for each peak, an unfolding in each summit. As you lay awake, dreaming for a hundred years, history speaks back to you: the living tissue in a tree stump, musky wildflowers, open mouths of river-streams in full force, a dab of attar from chandan trees on your wrist.” — Sneha Subramanian Kanta
The scent of sunlight peers through apexes of mountains
and a compost of water hyacinths. A name for each peak,
an unfolding in each summit. As you lay awake, dreaming
for a hundred years, history speaks back to you: the living
tissue in a tree stump, musky wildflowers, open mouths of
river-streams in full force, a dab of attar from chandan trees
on your wrist.