The Beach

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.

Bhavna Khurana

Photography by Astha Chourasia

Chilly

No matter how crippled and dried you are on the outside, deep within in your soul, you carry nothing less than an inferno. You are a blazing fire, the colour of the blood. You possess the potential to move the quiet, to sweep the silence off its ground. You might not be an eternity, but your effect is.

Move on, we’re not here to stick around tastes and deceptive appearances.

Bhavna Khurana

Photography by Astha Chourasia

Wanton Windmill

In the hustle of our tirelessly moving lifeless lives, we’ve forgotten where we’re heading to. We all have chosen a path, not a destination. We know what to do, but not how to do it. We spend most of our lives thinking, without attempting to do what we thought.

What is a mill without the wind, where is a human without the being?

Bhavna Khurana

Photography by Astha Chourasia