frescoes, jolfa

And so, on that first day of rain, I turned from the window, opened the door, and walked out. Into the sheets of rain, into the wet earth, and I knew then that I never would walk back again. Walked on, down the street, past yellowed windows and grime seeping slowly. Things were beginning to blur now; it was all a rush. It seemed like I had been moving towards this day my entire life.
A Day in the Life of. For Arathi, 2001

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