Zahra Amiruddin

Are the words coming back? Stretching stiff arms from a long-standing hibernation?The languid days are here again, from 365 days to 365 days, the cycle begins. Much has changed while remaining fairly constant.

Copper pod trees have now found Copper Pod trees across a singular sea and a suspended bridge. The season has altered as I find myself in shadows of walls and peeling cracks; immersed in water, on a listless afternoon. Light glints on a hand that moves its fingers apart - falling consciously. What is it about the change of the season that awakens nostalgia in places that continue to exist? There is a haze of a foreign land, dripping with sun - distant. 

Scrambled letters slip onto unfurling pages.Words stop. 

I’m certain it’s afternoon now-


As they fall into a summer slumber