Wild whistle.

Numb tents, numb stories in making. They’ll stay unread, unheard. They look like graves with rotten stories inside. I hear the cries, I feel the saddening amount of rush inside, to be out, to be heard, to feel the moisture above. I see them bleed fucking black and grey. #pindle #pindleindia #camping #ShareWithPindle #northeastindia #writer