What is true - Ben kopel
it’s a summer’s day. the sky is a sheet hung out to dry, clipped on black electric wires, and curling around electric poles. a lone cloud swims lazily past. so many greens dance in the afternoon breeze, as a couple sits in a park. a woman is reading an anthology of Prakrit poems, leaning in the shade of a peepal tree, with her lover’s head on her lap.
the evening has come to rest at her feet, ears pricked up.