Vedika Samant

I would like to step out of my heart and go walking beneath the enormous sky.

We cannot read the darkness. We cannot read it. It is a form of madness, albeit a common one, that we try.

I was once foolish enough to believe knowledge would clarify, but some things are so gauzed behind layers of syntax and semantics, behind days and hours, names forgotten, salvaged and shed, that simply knowing the wound exists does nothing to reveal it.

I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m on my way

It is sad, very sad to know a hand stamped in the dust lasts less time than the path a leaf opens when it dies.

Family dosen’t have to be blood