the old quarter

[feline_ikebana]

it's humid outside. sweat clings to my clothes. my throat closes up with gulps of sun. the children are running around with ice cream bars in each hand, fists slick with sickly sweet lashings of lassi. the smell is overwhelming when the dust settles around the concrete bench. the trees tower above me in a frightening way, like mean old men

Comments

[1bliss]

ah such lovely writing steph.