The heat of European summer revs melancholy into melodrama. I cycle past canals exuding the awkward charm of a multitude of boring things. Goaded by the breeze, dry leaves, fresh petals and sweet glinting pollen find themselves grooming the very air with perfume and hayfever. When the rare drifter finds release, it ever so gently plops in the water. That’s when I notice the ripples.
glyphs & graphs
by naveen srivatsav