February 9, 2012 § 3 Comments

In pretence of a lamp post, the moon hovers delicately over this conventional village, along with low-lying roof tiles scurrying with life.

Again, we sit and watch the bullock-carts and life pass by, as they carry yet another weary farmer away from unyielding fields.

January 22, 2012 § Leave a comment

Tea cups clutter the walls of their homes as they labour in the fields on end. The history of a land is difficult to forget, but when each meal is a blessing, the present and the rumble of a frustrated mind and stomach are as far reaching as the cries of a neglected child.

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