The beautiful miracle is when we find peace,
just behind us in a bright yellow fluttering bee.
Why does the rain drop on my shoulders,
heavier than the ink on these papers?
The conditions of a solitary bird are five: The first, that it flies to the highest point; the second, that it does not suffer for company, not even of its own kind; the third, that it aims its beak to the skies; the fourth, that it does not have a definite color; the fifth, that it sings very softly.
This blog has lived four years changing faces, changing voices, and chasing dreams. The writer, Samyuktha PC, is trying to live by finding stories, creating performances on stage, keeping secrets, running away on crazy adventures, and painting strawberries. She is currently has a pair of night-vision goggles fixed on to her face. She is combing the night for a punching bag and a pair of stark red gloves.
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