Photography
Excerpts from my oeuvre as a photographer.
It’s bad. We’re hit, man, We are hit.
Those innocent drops of rain falling from the sky never know the thousand ways in which they may shine.
The green fields that dot the landscape near New Delhi.
The paths we choose are indicative of the choices we make.
Embracing the skies.
Broken shards. Shattered dreams.
This moment will not pass until you let it.
Closing in around the light like it would be dark forever after.
Where is my home?
The warmth of the daytime seemed like a dream now.
Memories long gone.
Silently waiting for its occupants to return home.
Cloud-hidden, whereabouts unknown.
