My ode to the stunning season finale of Hannibal.
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Photography
Excerpts from my oeuvre as a photographer.
Cloud-hidden, whereabouts unknown.
The green fields that dot the landscape near New Delhi.
The paths we choose are indicative of the choices we make.
Embracing the skies.
Closing in around the light like it would be dark forever after.
Where is my home?
Memories long gone.
The warmth of the daytime seemed like a dream now.
Broken shards. Shattered dreams.
This moment will not pass until you let it.
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.
Silently waiting for its occupants to return home.
