"আলোর জাহাজ ফিরব ঘর আজ, বল না কতদূর?"

Insomnia. 

Open book. 

A half-eaten piece of pie. 

The phone lying beside with the gallery open. 

The mind is a late night train station in these wee hours of the morning.

A little cold, almost empty. A few lights blinking here and there. The whistle of a slow train of thoughts chugging in at intervals. Mostly smoke and fog.

Almost reminded of an old tune she used to hum after a long bout of love making. Almost. 

Plugged the earphones in. Turned the volume up to block out all the noise coming from the memory chute. 

Hard rock can be so damn soothing.

#reverie

From the archives, 2019