If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die. ― Mik Everett

You can reread the above quote to this: “If the person dear to you is an artist, you can never die.”

Yes—because they will carry you in their art pieces. If they are a writer, they will hide you between the lines of their favorite poems or stories. If they are a photographer, you will be in their photos forever. If they are a musician, they will blend you into the rhythm. If they are a painter, they will add you into the corners of their canvas. And the list goes on.

You will be forever engraved in their art—sometimes in plain sight, sometimes hidden. When others see the art, the artist will see you.

The expanded Avenues Mall is a beautiful place to explore. These photos are from the sea-facing area.

We will meet again
in an unknown universe,
where I am the wizard,
and you, my witch—
where I will cast
the most divine spell:
“Tvayi prema karomi.”

Beneath the raining stars,
We will fall in love again,
after a million lifetimes.

After my eyes grew tired, I stepped outside the office to relax. I stood there for a while and noticed these plants growing in the middle of the desert — they brought me a sense of peace.

Framework for responding to a conversation that might have hurt you.

1. Analyze what they said: Reflect on the words and tone used.
2. Understand the meaning: Consider the intent behind the message.
3. Consider the reason: Think about why they might have said this.
4. Respond clearly and calmly: Share your perspective without escalation.
5. Show kindness and empathy: Approach the entire conversation with patience and compassion.

I don’t want a thing
on Saturday mornings—
just my favorite songs
playing low.

I don’t want to leave the bed,
just stay there,
holding you tightly,
all day long.

Let me sit cross-legged,
tea in one hand,
and you in the other—
sipping both,
slowly.

It’s 10 p.m., I’m in bed
watching reels, and I’m bored.
Then the friends texted me,
“Let’s go for a walk,” and I said yes.

Now it’s 2:30 a.m., we’re still
roaming the streets,
Endless conversations
about nothing—
and everything under the sun.
The talks that make time feel unreal.

It’s hard to say goodbye
when we’re having
chocolate ice cream at midnight,
and laughing loud in the
yellow lighted roads.

We keep walking, still talking,
as someone says,
“The night is young—
and we have miles to go
before we sleep.”