My aunt was still young when the train shuddered— wheels skidding into early graves, the shriek of broken gears. A hazy elegy, a bomb, then three. That moment, muted and comatose—its seed still asleep under her tongue, still born in salted earth, beneath the headstone of a tiring before and a bouquet of tired […]
Read more
Your flag is the color of sun-stained backs drenched in the blood of their brothers, drowned by the stifling stench of cotton residue, drizzled in gashes ruptured by men who looked so much like you. Your stars were once stitched from bruised fingers in bare attics, every thread tamed into fabric you hoist into a […]
Read more
Kanchan 