I burn two or three matchsticks to light one cigarette.
I figure this way to light all the cigarettes of this world I need to burn three times more matchsticks.
The fire is mine,
i don’t need the rain, I don’t need the summer storms,
I have my fire to burn with.
A street flooded with burned or still burning matchsticks…
The melancholia of deserted river and the cremations of infinity.

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Photograph: Sumit Mehndiratta.