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  • Writer's pictureriddhi puranik

log house

Wood panels and stony bricks, a structure housing warmth and life. Cavernous depths of valleys and hills stretch out in the expanse of cold air of the mighty mountains. A midway point; if these mountains had eyes they would find a stranger staring in jealousy at the clouds. They escape with their fateful existence and only disappear at the will of the raging wind. Fences and boundaries in the backwoods and blazing hearths warm wool-covered palms. we may be going nowhere, but what a ride.




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