The sound of glass bangles still echoed in the lost lane of India. They knock at every door. Would you tell me your story? Is it red, blue or green? Red in passion, green with envy or blue with youth. The doors don’t say much. There has been too long a silence. The voice no longer lingers at the door. Don’t go! Stay with me! Says the door. The lives inside are too tangled to be free. Don’t open me, either. I can’t be opened anymore.Long ago, it was a different day, it was a different me.
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