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Identity

March 11, 2019

Poof to another country, erase my history, change my identity, lose those memories, cease to exist in a virtual world, be a stranger with a secret and no last known address, own little, talk less, listen; have no past, hope no future, just have a goddamn soul, never come back.

 

Imagine a town closest to the old world like in a time-travel. A town full of mad poets and crazy artists creating masterpieces, where the language is unknown and traditions are peculiar; I get a place by the shore where the sea is restless and the waves bring beautiful mysterious objects once a while, where there are art museums and antique stores at every corner, where the enigmatic old woman has many stories to tell, where fantasies come alive and take unending flights, where fairytales were history, where I don’t just chase a rabbit in a waistcoat but many other mystical creatures, where the magic is real and the witches are good, where the dazzling night sky conquers the inner darkness like a warrior, where the winds are musical and the moonlight whispers sonnets about love, where the citizens are queer, the unusual is alright and misfits are welcomed, where the fortuneteller smiles and the tricksters playfully disrupt the normal in a life, a life that is a perpetual carnival, where the music is old and the soul is childlike, where the food is in abundance and the landscapes resemble the descriptions from classic novels, where the houses have gardens and the little animals play in them, where they teach music and art in schools and love is the only religion, where I never appear in a photograph but only in the paintings by unknown artists…

I am wearing-

H&M slip

Photo by: Pradip Hazarika (instagram: pradiphazarikaphotography)

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