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In The Haze of Winter
#Fragments_of_Pink_Evenings
Sunday Morning
Hey Vibha! Yeah, I know it's Sunday again. Sundays are thin and transparent; we can almost see through them, like a fleeting memory you can never hold onto. You know I'm an overthinker, and I think that's the very thing responsible for my writings.
This morning, I found myself lost in the haze of the past. I remember it so vividly—one cold winter evening, with a soft hue of gold and pink blending into the atmosphere. It felt like the world was wrapped in a quiet,...
Sunday Morning
Hey Vibha! Yeah, I know it's Sunday again. Sundays are thin and transparent; we can almost see through them, like a fleeting memory you can never hold onto. You know I'm an overthinker, and I think that's the very thing responsible for my writings.
This morning, I found myself lost in the haze of the past. I remember it so vividly—one cold winter evening, with a soft hue of gold and pink blending into the atmosphere. It felt like the world was wrapped in a quiet,...
