Wednesday, 10 May 2017

Rukhsat ~ Stories From Urdu

(Urdu; Leave) 

Some days the wind rushes in howling through the front door, manhandling our newspaper stack while checking the date for how long it's been.

Most nights, the dog you used to feed comes around sniffing. For you or for milk, a difference he's now too bony to tell.

Every few weeks the tabloid run by the moon sends in a torchlight expedition through our tiny bedroom window.
They're gathering clues to reopen investigation.

Only you could've rearranged the universe by leaving. 

(Trying out a new written word video series but couldn't bear to write it all down, so the last slide needs you to pay attention. Watch the video here.).

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