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