The Book

The lines run into each other, the ink is musty in some places.
Some places make you smile and the others, heave a sigh of regret.
The pages that you read are of your own creation.

Two trees, time and tide

Praying quietly, we hoped. It was a little uncomfortable in the dark. And it was so moist. But we needed to be in that space – and so allowed it. I couldn’t see my friend – though I tried hard to squint through the darkness.