Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Small Narcissisms

Every language has its own silence. To translate between them is to write between the lines and hope that no one will find out. You collect snowflakes like butterflies, pinning them down in display cases from which they vanish in summer. The lukewarm drop retains no reflection. The rain tastes different under every sky.

1 comment:

Anitha said...

"The rain tastes different under every sky" - Awesome!I am amazed at the way u write!