Because I'm in Lahore. And because winter is at the door, I go back to these words written by @SairaAnsari_ about the city (we) left behind:
"Come, walk with me through a city I left behind. There is a sense of bereavement, of grieving, mourning, lamentation.
"Come, walk with me through a city I left behind. There is a sense of bereavement, of grieving, mourning, lamentation.
"Interspersed, there is also a warm nostalgia. Lahore was home. No, Lahore is always home. Like many ageless metropolises, Lahore is that brew of uncanny juxtapositions that is hard to concoct on your own.
"It is an adolescence that never quite matures – an unbridled youthful energy that is so charming; but then so clumsy when you need it to be responsible...." .
And: "The trees are the same. Gulmohar, Sumbul, Amaltas. They look the same, they smell the same. They all shed the same – a beautiful mess of red, white and yellow residue, year in and year out". Thank you, @SairaAnsari_
For the full text: enterpix.in/feature/surge-…
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