Muhammad Afzaal

“There were tales that only the island knew. Ones that had never been told. I knew, because I was one of them.”
― Adrienne Young, Spells for Forgetting

“NOVEMBER

Now chill & grey November
Come slowly o'er the plain,
Drearily the winter wind
Sings songs of future pain.

Wrapped closely in deep grey,
She scarcely will let pass
A little ray of sun
To cheer the sodden grass.

She scatters with her hand
The leaves dried up and brown,
The few that yet remain
From gay October's crown.

Her eyes and dark and sad,
Sad for the dying year,
And often in the mist
There falls a silent tear.

Beneath a cheerless sky
The trees are standing bare,
The fog has risen thick
And she is no more there.”
― Beatrice Crane

“And all the time it's raining outside and doesn't look as though it will ever stop. Doesn't worry me at all, I'm under cover and am only embarrassed to eat my opulent Gabelfrühstük in front of the house painter who at the moment is standing on the scaffolding before my windows and who, furious about the rain which has temporarily stopped and about the amount of butter I'm putting on my bread, is splashing the windows unnecessarily (which is probably also only my imagination, since he is no doubt 100 times less preoccupied with me than I with him). No, now he is really working in pouring rain and thunder.”
― Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena

“I felt there was no point in telling anyone anything that was happening inside of me.”
― Christa Wolf