A new page. An old start. Dead old sounds ring softly as an alarm hoots its away into awakening.
Uncomfortable words in smoked silences merge with a longing with an impending fear its all in the head as the old man covers his head from an ancient balcony the city breathes in in decaying aliveness.
I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know. A full stop it too random here
Sex & Trauma Psychotherapist, Artist and Writer who creates innovative psychotherapy and inner work healing content on somatics, trauma recovery, abuse and mental health from a creative, spiritual, depth-focused, decolonial lens. Also known as @indiansextherapist. Started one of the first Indian therapy groups for people who have perpetrated and survived sexual abuse.
View all posts by Neha Bhat
2 thoughts on “‘That Calcutta December’”
And the cloud of lost emotions visit me ,
I wonder why they had left;
Forgotten people and the forgotten gully,
I wonder where they had met.
For a person far away, yearning to step back at any opportune moment, this was a gift. Thanks.
And the cloud of lost emotions visit me ,
I wonder why they had left;
Forgotten people and the forgotten gully,
I wonder where they had met.
For a person far away, yearning to step back at any opportune moment, this was a gift. Thanks.
I am glad then. What else could a photograph capture more than forgetfulness?