Some aspirations
set to sail
in the river that never stops.
Some memories
that thwarts our motion
running through the folds of a waterfall.
Some love
that we consider unique
stays put inside our neurons.
Some ideologies
concrete and fluid
remains etched on the edges of a butter-knife.
Some revolutions
lost in bruised souls
fall to the earth like shooting stars.
Distraction-free reading. No ads.
Organize your knowledge with lists and highlights.
Tell your story. Find your audience.
Read member-only stories
Support writers you read most
Earn money for your writing
Listen to audio narrations
Read offline with the Medium app
Ankita is a middle-class Bengali woman whose eyelids are painted with yet-to-be fulfilled dreams. An avowed reader, she only wants to learn and write in life.
