The wind in the dusty path—the expression of my long life. What I want to tell you is recorded here. I'm sad, sick of not seeing you. Read me, don't believe my cherished consciousness. What I want to say, what I say—is the note of life painted on a completely imaginary canvas or the echo of an invisible cry. Here is the sky full of water, the lively faintness of the rain. Unknown sun flower. The exposure of long hair and the quiet lifeless noise of the afternoon. It's like a dangerous environment.

On a windy day on this dusty road—a day of rustling dry leaves. The afternoon of Hemant is ending winter evening

Genre: Prose
Cover: Pure silence
Publication: Behula Bangla Publications
Body Price: 250