“Unlike the summer sun, my life has started to fade Forsaken by the memories of thee, which once shone like the jade. My eyes elude the moist fear, and are now as dry as hay Melancholy cries are all I… — Supriya Kaur Dhaliwal Copy Share Image
We are often like rivers: careless and forceful, timid and dangerous, lucid and muddied, eddying, gleaming, still. Lovers, farmers, and artists have one thing in common, at least - a fear of 'dry spells,' dormant periods in which we do… — Gretel Ehrlich Copy Share Image
