Sunset at Home

A cousin wrote to me after a long time and sent me this photograph of a sunset that he had recently captured.
So things haven’t changed much at home, in two and a half years, or so it seems.

I remember the vague feeling of despair, of silence and impending doom that used to accompany the call of birds headed home, in the evenings when the temple bells rang, and I stood at the door watching the sun set and feeding the mosquitoes, wondering why all the days were the same, and how despite the sky being different each evening, every sunset was the same, and brought the same wistfulness upon me.

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