I was clad in grays and they channeled a stampede all over like I didn't exist. He colored me rainbow and they thought I was a thunderbolt in the right color scheme. My only baggage from past...kohl-laden eyes. They cradle stories you wouldnt consider blockbusters.posted by Shivranjini Krishnamurthy at
6:30 PM
Pattern recognition in the yonder blues is a favorite pastime. This space showcases the best in the growing lot.
Special Sting Note: All works of art (words or photographs) you see here belong to my mind. While it is encouraging to know I maybe an author worth copying, but I suggest just not yet. If you still insist, the least you can do is drop me a line with the quoted text at: shivranjini [at] gmail [dot] com.
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