Family
The Light Between Two Windows
It was the kind of winter in New York City where even the streetlights looked tired. Snow clung to the sidewalks like forgotten promises, and the city pulsed quietly beneath its usual roar. Somewhere in the East Village, in an aging brownstone split into narrow apartments, two strangers lived across from one another, separated by little more than thirty feet of air and glass.
By Shakil Sorkar9 months ago in Poets
The poet who only wrote in the rain
Main Story A small town where even the wind seemed to speak to his ear. At the end of the town, in a secluded corner of an old house, lived Aarav—a strange poet. He had no pen, no diary, no blank sheet of paper. He wrote only when the sky cried.
By Canvas Whispers9 months ago in Poets
