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“Morning finds the shiuli fallen, white stars on wet earth. I pick one— its fragrance is a memory I cannot place. A child laughs nearby. The flower wilts in my palm. Everything beautiful has an expiry date. I learn this again and again” — Avijeet Das
Morning finds the shiuli
fallen,
white stars on wet earth.
I pick one—
its fragrance
is a memory
I cannot place. A child laughs nearby.
The flower wilts
in my palm.
Everything beautiful
has an expiry date.
I learn this
again
and again