Kathmandu blew in chilly evening wind against my face, as I walked around the bend of the Narayanhiti Palace and made my way toward Lazimpat, last night.
These long lonely walks that stumble into faces of strangers I have seen before is a reminder that I will only be an individual, always.
Sometimes, when I stop to talk to strangers on these alone evenings, I find more fulfillment than the kind I do when I'm buried deep in the arms of someone I love.
Walking along Lazimpat, always reminds me of a stranger, who walked into my tea cup and found a way into my system.
In the middle of the night, when I peel down like layers and layers of autumn leaves that are being crushed down as they fall in dry silence from my body, it is this stranger I think of again.
Lashing of words from the stranger would still bring me complete in concentric circles-- back to a point when I started to unbelong to myself.
These long lonely walks that stumble into faces of strangers I have seen before is a reminder that I will only be an individual, always.
Sometimes, when I stop to talk to strangers on these alone evenings, I find more fulfillment than the kind I do when I'm buried deep in the arms of someone I love.
Walking along Lazimpat, always reminds me of a stranger, who walked into my tea cup and found a way into my system.
In the middle of the night, when I peel down like layers and layers of autumn leaves that are being crushed down as they fall in dry silence from my body, it is this stranger I think of again.
Lashing of words from the stranger would still bring me complete in concentric circles-- back to a point when I started to unbelong to myself.
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