Sunday, August 22, 2010

broken story

He focussed on her earring.
But she did not turn to pose for him with her intense, kohl- lined glare this time. She had forgotten.

The person next to her was making her laugh and narrow her eyes in concentrated conversation, alternatingly.

He pointed the lens to the darkness outside the window with a sigh. But could not focus on anything.
The train was speeding that night.
And the only light came from the flashing rails underneath.

4 comments:

Unruly Rebel said...

well i must say you write very clean, are you by any chance ayn rand fan..??



Namit,
My SPacE- Wen i was a boy

Anonymous said...

I always motivated by you, your views and way of thinking, again, thanks for this nice post.

- Norman

Anonymous said...

soon

Jack said...

Parshati,

Got your link from you comment. Read all current posts. You write what comes in your mind or I should say as the thoughts flow. Keep writing.

Take care