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Urban

By Avinaba Sarkar


I see headlights traveling at hedonistic speeds, heading towards exuberance. Replays of replays

generating heedless heaps of garbage. And a crowd caught in this chaotic order, strategically nurtured in

an unfound normalcy.



Growing up on stacks of anger and disgust with auto-generated covers of

stillness, designed by junk cultures. These are walking graves, looking out to bury in the innocent.

We are in transit, but where?


By Avinaba Sarkar




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