There was a sense of urgency because time was running out, the opportunity was cruel and mean. The stolen moments were entwined on that branch of old wood which hung in that gorge of peccadillo. It hung in the ether as though she said ‘statue’ to her. And then the broken glasses flew in the air and stood still…the moment was captured into a sculpture. Tiny trumpets blew into the ears blocking all incoming signals. Now all these were indelible plus time. Timeless.
Written on Wednesday, October 13, 2004
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