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Paper Spoon: India Meets Persia

Paper Spoon: India Meets Persia

  Paper Spoon   This night holds me so tightly in its palm, as if to never love another, but outside what remains is the inheritance and an unfriendly notice. I fumble through the memories, recalling promises of life, never loving another. Softly, I wait until the lush beginning comes to me. I am pale yet ripe, seasoned with night clouds, wondering how the skin is perfected before the portrait of a wrinkled woman, from my kitchen to yours, is…

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