Everyone Has To Scratch On Walls Somewhere

I See The Poem Or The Novel Ending With An Open Door.

That's Anil's Path. She Grows Up In Sri Lanka, Goes And Gets Educated Abroad, And Through Fate Or Chance Gets Brought Back By The Human Rights Commission To Investigate War Crimes.

In The Desert The Most Loved Waters, Like A Lover's Name, Are Carried Blue In Your Hands, Enter Your Throat. One Swallows Absence.

As A Writer, One Is Busy With Archaeology.

You Think That You Are An Iconoclast, But You’re Not. You Just Move, Or Replace What You Cannot Have. If You Fail At Something, You Retreat Into Something Else. Nothing Changes You.... I Left You Because I Knew I Could Never Change You. You Would Stand In The Room So Still Sometimes, As If The Greatest Betrayal Of Yourself Would Be To Reveal One More Inch Of Your Character.