SOUNDS OF VISION
The blind grave-digger has now come to know that
loneliness is not so lonely. It has silently covered his
blindness like moss, along with his creasing old age.
The age-old burial ground has become his habitat since
long. Now he can't remember when Cynthia had suddenly
matured into a grown-up lady tackling her clumsy
motherless girlhood.
His blindness has now become his fondness for listening to
the sounds of vision.
His spade works like assured hits of death on life. He digs
graves with all his might; the spade thuds deeper and
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