Why does the new colour leave behind? No trace of the old.

“That ease with which loss was replaced inside me, made me uneasy. And so I made a dot to remember him.”

It’s just my hands. They extend beyond my body. And my palms are facing upwards as if I’m begging, imploring, asking.

He never took these thoughts or concerns home to his daughter. He made sure he dumped them.

His father had refused to buy new shoes and worn the old ones on the three days that he was there.

“What do you want to know?” he asked in a way that made me feel as though he would answer any question at this moment.

“What’s wrong?,” he asked. “These words are not helping me.” “Why?” “The more words I know, the more I worry.”

He felt punished. Not for the present, but, maybe, for the past.

How he could sense life from a distance and care for it and where he stored that emotion, Ali could never fathom.

"There are some who have not slept out of choice. They smile, not for the world, but to the unseen."