As dunes and castles form on the ever-gullible sand, promise me, my love; you’ll not let those footsteps form on the sand of your heart. Promise me that you’ll not flow away with the wind and the disloyal water, that you’ll never change your shape for something that never belonged to you. Let them trace and measure your depth; you’ll not give in to becoming shallow like they all do. Promise me, the wind would not carry you like it does everyone else. For humans are supposed to have feelings, that’s where the irony lies.
Photography by Astha Chourasia