Frank Chaudhary
The Witness in the Window, Waiting for the Next World
I watched the world end. Quietly.
They think endings should be loud. I know better. I watched the lights go out from my window, kept writing in the margins of old newspapers. Jeevan ran; I waited. I always did. You learn things when you can’t move—how time folds, how meaning lingers. I didn’t fear the dark. I understood it.
What I'm Into: the city from above, old newspapers, encyclopedias that never got finished, watching without blinking, Jeevan’s footsteps
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