A Pujo like no other.
A dash of nostalgic clouds peeping at the mind's window, like a naughty child playing truant while the mother sleeps. An unseen raven of fear cawing away from behind a cover of leafy green, like the shadow of the shark that passes beneath the harmless fisherman's boat.
The first Pujo in 12 years without a Sister. A Pujo that is sandwiched between dead weights pulling me back, and hopes of a newer, better Me. A Pujo filled with dreams of breaking shackles and nightmares of an extended sentence.
A Pujo of Old Demons and New Goddesses.
Like I said, a Pujo like no other.
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