Life Dam

The chest is like a huge wall. Bigger than the Great Wall of China. It is like a dam of unknown fear and anger with a gap between victory and defeat. All good and bad memories are there. Everything is messy. What is not in this invisible existence of magnitude? At 3:30 in the morning, a gentle snort of the elder in the cup of tea in Ghupti's shop. Before Eid-ul-Adha in light cloths, ghostly bulls roam the city at night and noon. Walking casually in the afternoon rush. Sweaty khairi or blue shirt. Which may have been organic fertilizer. Or a leaky drain causing environmental pollution.

Well, why is there no window on this wall? There is no way to open it. There is no uturn road back to the past. It's not even a chest to unlock. This is a wall, where the fallen bricks remain forever. Maybe one day it will fall. It becomes a useless waste. Innumerable raindrops and lightning strikes were trapped on this copper wall one day. He had to put the standard script in a small bag worth one taka and eight annas and run headlong on the way back to school.

Brutal history is also woven into this vast dam of biographies. There is the corpse of a friend offering visions of a healed life. How much time has passed? How much taste and taste is the self-absorbed Dharani? Maybe age has nothing to do with it. A moment's spectrum can give glimpses of millions of years. What a surprise!