anticlimate

december makes feelings of gladness and redundancy. christmas is lovely, hyderabad is lovely around christmas. but then i haven't much to do really. so the whole month feels like that half hour before the year turns. that doomed yet cheerful anticipation. of waiting for something that will last exactly zero seconds and draw out into exactly one word and lots of images you don't have room for.

no wonder we feel kind of stupid when the moment is here. all that stretching, tensing, squinting, and many false starts later: just one curly strip of smoke shaved off a tick-tock-tick. like a hand flung from a carousel, fingertips grazing something cool and green and lost.