Instead of blood, the pain of love is circulating in my arteries.
— Masaud Akhtar Zaigham, The Jewels of Urdu Poetry
“After all, how can you live in denial if the very key pieces of your regret are stapled right in front of you every day?”

“Yasmeen imagined the diya glowing on the terrace at dusk, a tiny light shared between two families who had always lived as neighbours, not lines on a map.”
