On Frankaffe, Sushrut Munje writes poetry on the reckless nature of tumultuous passion, quite like unplanned yet ecstatic spurts of acrylic on canvas.
Courtesy: Berlin ArtParasites

When the moon shines bright, it’s a good night to fall in love. Her words set the tone. Do you smell the summer spice in her hair? Feel the wind hug you in its entirety, and her. When the scent of the night flowers lays insistent, it’s a good time to fall in love. Taste the rain, do you, it comes like she does, slow and heavy, wet and thirsty, you gasp like you have never had.

When the clouds overwhelm the daylights out of you, you know it’s the reckless kind. Her words set the tone to the dance she’s put you on. Check the drapes, the dress she’s made you wear. If only for the night, if only to toy with the fantasy that’s always been there, thumping deep. You feel it as she overcomes, and overwhelms. She is the storm. Licks till you melt, every touch a verse. Twists and squeezes. Words and dreams. She has you now. She won’t have it any other way.

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