Outside, the night lay inebriated with its vastness. The wind was on the palms of Khasak. Beyond the reaches of the village late wayfarers waved their fibre torches, pulses of flame and ember. Like stricken spaceships signalling distress with their incandescent antennae, they continued their desolate journey.
(It's better to create than destroy what's unnecessary)
Saturday, December 20, 2008
The Legends Of Khasak - pg. 95
Labels: landscapes, O. V. Vijayan
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