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