There was a human baby, found from the dustbin.
It was raining that day. The outlets of loneliness were all opened.
The long night and people rescued him.
He is all flourished now, all infested with updated tools.
He knows woman, he kind of revolves around them all the time…
Perhaps he tries to find a pair of nurtured breasts and a nostalgic home in them.
He is a good man. But I don’t know why it bothers me when I see him kicking the hell out of stray dogs at silent midnights.
I guess cause I know how he had to have a fate of goldsmith just to be here today.
People often dwell on their past but most of the time they forget to acknowledge the distance between their past and the moderate present.

…………………………………………………………….

Photograph: Monojit Photography.

Advertisements