Monday, October 6, 2008

note of homesickness

Sometimes I think I hear trucks lulling me to sleep, trucks on their way up Barapani. Sometimes I think I hear tiny raindrops drip-drip on the garden flowers and moist earth just out my window. Sometimes I think I hear the soft breathing of my brother asleep on his bed. And at these times I wonder if anything has moved since I left.

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