"once, with my dad." the leaves were rustling at every step as we headed for the river beside the woodland rays. the daylight wasn't particularly bright nor warm. just enough to spill a sight suitable to see the crooked pathway.
"he told me that there are seasons where the fishes are abundant," i continued. "and you don't need any assistive gear during those."
"assistive gear," he repeated. "like spears and arrows, axes and daggers?"
"crossbows and maces," i corrected. he smiled.
the peak of autumn meant the presence of color schemes. usually, they'd range between red and orange, yellow and brown. when the leaves overlap upon each other, as though a smaller tree grew under a slightly bigger one, they'd give off a faded golden streak of gleam like the sun's rays. i hadn't been sure if i ever told him yet, but if you put your palm precisely under that line of light beneath the leaves shone by the sun, you are, by which, a witness of a heavenly body grasping hands with a portion of this world. it's like holding a part of the sky, a similar thing made from the same element the rain gives you.
"how about you?" i asked.
"what about me?"
"have you been to a camping trip like this before?" i remembered the first time going to the mountains with my family. although the view was beautiful, exceptional, exciting, insert all other adjectives that describe the stars the same, i couldn't stop thinking about how the ground was continuously uphill. and the more we stepped, the higher we were. what exactly was the probability of us falling into this den of bushes that was actually a forest of trees below, and the number of broken bones limited to survive the way back home? yes, the journey was memorable, i could say. but breathtaking was a more fitting term to me. both literally and its figure of speech.
"i've been to high places before, and those sceneries," he looked upfront. "definitely are one of its kind. but huge forests? not as of i can remember."
"you don't overlook everything, do you?"
"like snakes being around these branches or spiders on the tree trunks. worms under your shoes?" i looked at where we were stepping, the shades of leaves reflecting on ground. it reminded me of how john green described them. the sky being split looked like traces of cassiopeia.
"no," he replied. overthinking, it might've been my middle name but i always knew he wouldn't do such a thing. "but it's just like walking at a park, don't you think?" he continued. "a city or a town park, but with maces and crossbows as you say. so it should be like taking a stroll through the woods sixty five million years ago."
"definitely to not try and steal some fishes from their ancient rivers," i uttered. we laughed.
the flowing water sounded closer the further we went. the birds were chirping as well, but not too loud either. they were dispersed high enough to stay on branches of trees median in height. this forest was always closely intertwined in equidistant symmetries, and i always thought i was the complete opposite of it.
the river was already visible upfront. we stopped by the nearest tree as i tossed my backpack, and he placed his next to mine. i retied my shoelaces tighter as i focused on a creek that laid a little upfront. we headed there.
the flowing water wasn't as strong as i expected, which was a great thing, of course, because falling into the depth of that i-don't-know-what-in-the-world-lies-in-its-dark-oblivious void was probably not a good idea. rocks were sitting by its sides and across, some huge enough for its surfaces to remain untouched by the stream. my dad once advised that between these solid platforms laid the most vulnerable paths of prey. i leaped through a few of these spaces, a meter fall by its edge, and i was going first as he followed behind. we stopped at the one with the least strong current as i could see a few fishes already jumping alongside.
"salmon," he said from my back. i faced him.
"and catfishes." i could see their whiskers flashing droplets as another jumped by. we both bent down on the rocks we were at, the space between these platforms managing as our possible source of dinner.
"i'll try to catch it first?" i said as another one leaped by. he glanced at me then back to the flowing water.
"since they're slippery, i'll serve as the second bait."
i nodded in agreement. i wiped my hands on the sides of my shirt (wasn't anxiously sweating, was i?), prepping them closely on the little space this time. i looked upfront as a salmon, which i assumed was heading to our direction, rapidly curved itself for a jump. i raised my hands just in time to catch it, trying to grip its slimy skin. it slipped up and i grabbed hold of it again before it swiveled its body, leaping towards him. he moved fast enough to clasp its body, as they fell down the edge in the water below.
there was a quote i remembered that virginia woolf said in her book "to the lighthouse." it went as, "so fine was the morning except for a streak of wind here and there that the sea and sky looked all one fabric, as if sails were stuck high up in the sky, or the clouds had dropped down into the sea." although he wasn't weightless and i knew not that he could (possibly, you know) fly, but he was like the wind virginia woolf described at that specific moment. not the clouds but the sails up on the sky, and not the sails but the clouds into these waters. and i couldn't tell if that were of any good at all.
he was glaring at me, a meter below, arms crossed with his hips down in the water, as drops of the river streamed on his forehead from his strands of wet hair. i could still see the movement of the surface as the fish hurried away from him.
"i, uh." i covered my mouth, trying to find the words at first, because i believed it was pretty much the most rude thing i could ever do to laugh at what in the world just happened. but i did, i laughed, a bit much i became teary. i looked back at him, expecting an eye roll or probably a punch or a slap (either of which i'd gladly accept), but as i did, he started laughing as well. i shook my head before kneeling down on the rock to offer him my hand.
"i'm so sorry," i said, wiping my eyes with my other hand. "i didn't think that would happen. i should've warned you that you might fall belo--" and before i could process my words, i was already beside him, drenched the same, after he took my hand and pulled it. he laughed and so did i, our voices echoing amidst the trees nearby and the sound of the flowing water.
i couldn't tell which part my head was remembering, which detail i couldn't tend to think. the ever-changing colors of light, splashes of autumn leaves' shadows falling and swaying by as they reflected on the surface of the water, or the way he was happy. i looked at him for a split second. sometimes, i whisper to God how beautiful life is, how infinite are the little things. we are tapestries, and we are astonishments of His marvelous wonder. but i glanced away just immediately as he faced me.
"i think," he said. "there are edible mushrooms we passed by earlier. we can have those for food instead." i laughed a little and nodded in reply.
the actual wind settled in, rippling the water as it did. i thought of the stars and the figures they lined we call as constellations, as if the waters don't show the same. at once, i wanted to say it out loud, how the river, this river, would take us back into the becoming of something that was beyond the lingual way of differentiating moments over photographs, something light and time couldn't capture in its exact. about how diane arbus said that "a picture is a secret about a secret, the more it tells you the less you know." and i knew in that moment that even if i could stick a camera under his nose, about how he was asking why i was smiling under my breath as we walked back to our bags, clothes wet and soaked, that i wanted to write my gratitude to green, woolf, arbus and more, for expressing things i myself failed to do so. that i wanted to freeze, in light and time, a genuine smile i hadn't seen yet. something i could hold to my palms, underneath the rain and the sun's rays. someday i pray for, someday i will.
“I want to share something Virginia Woolf wrote: ‘English, which can express the thoughts of Hamlet and the tragedy of Lear, has no words for the shiver and the headache. . . . The merest schoolgirl, when she falls in love, has Shakespeare or Keats to speak her mind for her; but let a sufferer try to describe a pain in his head to a doctor and language at once runs dry.’ And we’re such language-based creatures that to some extent we cannot know what we cannot name. And so we assume it isn’t real. We refer to it with catch-all terms, like crazy or chronic pain, terms that both ostracize and minimize. The term chronic pain captures nothing of the grinding, constant, ceaseless, inescapable hurt. And the term crazy arrives at us with none of the terror and worry you live with. Nor do either of those terms connote the courage people in such pains exemplify, which is why I’d ask you to frame your mental health around a word other than crazy.” -dr. singh (John Green's Turtles All The Way Down).
there is something about the word, coward, that takes off the bat from its letter w; which in turn would give you, coard, pronouncing a denotation of a cord or a chord. both terms that are supplements of connection. leaves, i'd say, are proportions of trees. letters scrambled to become the extent of what they can label as a pile in autumn, tumbled for decay. i don't think i may be of any difference from them, i think.
i remember the quote that said "the eyes are the windows of the soul," whose author i couldn't really trace back with google search engine saying it was originally shakespeare's or plato's, or the french poet, guillaume de salluste du bartas, who described the eyes as “these lovely lamps, these windows of the soul." it reminds me of outerspace, maybe? you know, when you partially believe that you are something you thought you were only to end up realizing that this belief is an erosion from the actual meaning of things you are in denial of. oblivion, nothingness, withered, dried. we are wonders of varnished letters gathered from the same alphabet.
sometimes i try to think about the transitions of people or things that stay as a proportion or a connotation to its primary meaning. that's what these leaves are made of, or english perhaps, made of a few words but a gazillion letters.
earlier this noon, the rain was continuously pouring. and although i could no more count its drops than the number of times i thought i was ridiculous, the puddles appeared. and i was thinking, if people spoke the right language and knew the right terms, it would be as though the weather that tells you of wonder and makes you look up to sky and the moon. even if they couldn't see it, they knew it was there.
it sounds so easy to be judged once the actual thing is there. when the house is fully built but with a creaking door, a healed broken leg but couldn't walk as straight yet, or my description of i, growing for this number of years, but still too filled with plot holes. maybe i can't say what it must feel like to be the actual thing. i don't know how bright the stars may have when overcasted, how many the leaves are when piled, how cold winter is when i only have rain.
i'm not sure what the names of the other two raptors were, but it's interesting how the director thought of canceling out the beta first, otherwise known as blue, just before the actual fight began. jurassic world's climax didn't feel as though the typical type of plot summit where everything is haywire and the protagonist is empty-handed. it was written rather with an apex conceivable enough to realize that even dinosaurs come back to where they know they belong. which, when uttered that way, is kind of a common thing to actually say. it's otherwise called as the anatomical snuff box, in human anatomy.
if you bend your wrist to your hand's pinky side, they term that as ulnar deviation. your thumb, moved to the back of your hand's side, is known as thumb extension. thumb abduction would be moving your thumb away from the rest of your hand's fingers. if you do these three motions at once while applying resistance, there will be visible muscle protrusions. the hole right there is what they term as the anatomical snuff box, bordered by these three muscles namely, extensor pollicis longus, extensor pollicis brevis, and abductor pollicis longus. otherwise easily remembered as the hand's three raptors.
it honestly doesn't really stand out that much. perhaps in a way that tells you that the universe isn't in cue with a series of threads to pull a pattern of a triangle or a planet. or a rabbit maybe, because there aren't enough holes to magnify their existence so it's easier to make them shadows for things that are void of wonder. maybe my fingers can't be intertwined to become the reason of somebody else's happiness. sometimes i think of flashlights and camping, constellations and finding patterns on skies and the ocean and its seashells, but do they really mean something to others. what it may have been something magical to my eyesight is only deflected by everything i had always been wrong to say. i tell the world, you are incredible. you are filled with things i know am unworthy of. you are infinite and remarkable. but why do you feel so fragile? when i have had all the strength to keep myself together, always thinking that maybe i am only insane, unnormal, crazy. but what does it actually feel like to not be the odd one out?
there is an emotion i always fail to explain, and perhaps it's just how the world can't grasp everyone who's on it. strands of hair pulled after a single brush, like letters stitched to become your name only for them to turn into words unknown most to yourself. i guess i'm one of the many that misunderstand myself too, and it's becoming too often these days. i stay, and i stay, and i stay, and i choose to stay but will the world do so too when space decides to slip me away?
"there is no exquisite beauty without some strangeness in the proportion." —edgar allan poe
i don't know which phrase do we have to leave from edgar allan poe's statement, should it have been something that makes it clearer but doesn't deviate from its particular meaning. formula derivations, from a particular root, which alter the equation in proportion to what is needed in play. does the worth of a dollar change if you substitute its first quarter to its last?
"there is no strangeness without some exquisite beauty in the proportion," and i couldn't tell if synonyms commit the same crime.
my brother always preferred milk over coffee, and i the other way around. mornings with either cereal or cream don't really have much of a difference for lactose intolerance. whenever the body reacts dramatically, mom would worry while dad would just nod. he'd always come knocking to say "you should avoid it for your mom at least," but a little rebellious to sneak in a portion of his ice cream when chances aren't at bay.
suffocation always fit the ocean, mom once said when she refused to go swimming with us. dad never understood what drove that fear when time grew. he said that there was something always in link with the sky and the sea, not the color, but the way it feels. yet i always knew that the moon wasn't much of an interest to mom. "it's just the moon," she'd say as she spent just a split second fraction to take a glimpse of it in the binoculars, yet it only looked the same for her as to every moment i'd tell it's following us back home.
there were instances when they left for a walk and the night was quiet for some time. i'd play chess against myself, but always tend to lose over the best probable moves thrown back. i mean, i do give way for recklessness to allow myself to win. definitely not biased that way. yet to think of it, perhaps time and its courses have the same thought: to remain in a straight line whilst staying secondary to space impingement. maybe one can always claim victory against itself when consistently in a battle against constancy, and that's only if a partial has the right to claim a win against its whole.
what did words matter to a desert? -benjamin alire sáenz
i can't tell how many times i have to throw the letters back and forth to find a noun, an adjective, a verb. i mean, who knows when, or where, or why you have to toss the dice to find a number no more or less than the amount of spaces between your toes. can you count the void even? no, which just says this totally doesn't make any sense. because maybe i'm just half the number your left, or i'm only medial to lateral, a hand, a shoe, an eyepatch. the distance you take coming back from where you were to where you are.
it's just that i'm always stuck in an endless spiral, turning and turning in the tightening gyre like john green said. and the thing about spirals is that its circumference can never equalize the distance of its line, its endless line. from starting point to end point, shall i say, from the outward to its most inner void. the more you go, the more do you get into the middle of something that suffocates. life, i guess, is just this fixed radius. people are there for the fixed radius, this literal breathtaking, suffocating displacement over the entire distance.
they couldn't, somehow, grasp the concept of having to brush your teeth with your wrist slightly deviated for that streak of icing by the edge of your second molar. because they believed that you are partially conjoined to become something you refused to eat. but they said if you count the number of steps you take from the shallows to the deep, you'll realize they aren't less than the bubbles that pop in between your teeth. because we chew a little more than what we can swallow often, but never take foot more than what we can step.
if the birds understand not the concept of the sky, shouldn't we write the wings for other things; that know not to fly?
at a vast scale of individual mirrors lining up in a department store, i could no more count its repetitive visuals than determine the differences each will have to prove its worth of being chosen. they all reflect the same, i'd say. each person, mediating every intuition as the only thing that's possibly visible in front of it. like a yellow flower amidst a garden more of the same, in which the only apparent distinction they have is their place.
when i was small enough to fit in the dog house whose owners haven't drifted to a number no more than two, i could see the yard slowly being emptied with a picking stick and a trash bag of dried leaves. if circumstances are necessary, i'd reason out. being rebellious is in line with skipping classes or hitting a classmate, but not in avoiding chores, isn't it? but that honestly wasn't the main reason when the sun was up and my dad would sit on the porch step, counting to ten. i'd hide nowhere else other than a wooden kennel home with a holed roof, big enough to fit my childhood and a car engine you'll hear in the distance, saying maybe we'll finish the game tomorrow instead. so you'll wake up on your bed whilst falling asleep on the ground, again and again, until the hands that carry you decay faster than an autumn leaf adjacent to its decomposing tree.
"there's food in the fridge," my mom would say whenever i woke up, over and over, until they'd remember what my meals had consumed.
i'm thinking of a pronoun that i can refer to it, a nothing, not-a-thing. which kind of interjects the purpose of this write-up, because i shouldn't be referring to anything at all. that's why it's oblivion. but in that case, there may not be any underlying interest for this. i mean, that should make sense because a letter is supposed to be "a direct or personal written or printed message addressed to a person," or a thing in another case, as merriam-webster dictionary dictates. but if your recipient doesn't end up reading it, will you still find the same essence in those words?
there can't be anything i can accurately describe it. not even emptiness when there are gazillion micro-things in this adjacent void, swipe that out and you may have dark matter. i know, it's not something that is completely understood other than a zero being the midline between the positives and the negatives. can't multiply, can't divide; and against itself, it is stuck in an endless loop, over and over in repetitive thoughts.
if you think about it, space is much more closely defined as infinity rather than absolutely nothing at all. there are times that i can use this word against and with myself. contradicting points to the lack of purpose, or any overpassed bias, because maybe nothing is only a figure of speech we obtain to define something we cannot afford to describe.
there is a blank slate between you and the sky whom one calls nothing when it's dark, and the properties of people being subjected into dreams that may or may not simplify the concept of barely existing. ask the little child which flying kite she'd choose when the moon was learning to peek under the tree trunk's arch, and the light was preserving not a single string. she'd tell you she couldn't choose, because the night was sleep deprived.
it's easy to fear oblivion, as if it is a choice to be afraid. perhaps it's just the same concept as to key holes and baggage counters, off to a limited phase that tells one your purpose isn't the definition of somebody else's things. you are ought to be remembered, cannot not be forgotten, all things as it shouldn't naught remaining in succession to a was, an is, as it will be.
i tell myself often that perhaps i am nothing in this world, because i know not my grand importance. but the absence of a particularity doesn't magnify the concept of nothing. there might be no root in my words. no thing, no order, no interest, no matter, not-a-single-thing to be objected as anything. but it should, at least, be a collection of undefined words. any kind of worth you can divide right above this zero, will remain oblivious when always in an adjacent state.
and to this oblivion, most people might end up fearing. it is, therefore, a gift. a pronoun you can use to write a letter to, when the rest of the explanatory matter doesn't make more sense.
This moment occured on 32th February, Sunday 9AM, when squared dropped a zoom meeting link in the unofficial group of "Miraquilleans", which said," Hola Folks, follow the given link and start joining the meeting as soon as you can, it is sunday hehe, you cannot blabber clever reasons, hit up soon." *meanwhile miraquilleans in the group*
aditii_ : what? a meeting on sunday? No! this isn't happening. shrey2310 : exactly man, i fed my whole night on computer science so as to complete it, i am sleeping man. Squared, you would have told us earlier, we would have arranged our times accordingly. *makes red tomato face*
squared: there is a very important annoucement full of fun. shrey2310: fun? omg, i told sunday that i will be spending time with her, don't destroy our relation by this meeting. * cries cries cries*
the_speccy_outsider: guys, we should take a look, what if there is something important? let's join. inked_selenophile: right brother, it won't be a whole day meeting we can spend few hours on the meeting.
Just when everyone joined, overly 250 people, the background was vibing with "COLD WATER by Major Lazer". What else can we do when we're feeling low? So take a deep breath and let it go You shouldn't be drowning on your own>
After dancing over song, shrey2310 was caught in pyjamas and queen_butterfly with sumiinked were found gossiping with each other over phone call, hence three of them were caught red handed. *mission accomplished hehe*
squared: a very happy morning beautiful hoomans, so how did you feel? fromwitchpen: omg, squared this was so unexpected, having almost every member of miraquill here made my morning full of yayay! daffodilpearlzz: exactly, fromwitchpen.It feels good to take off time and spend time with each other, my fingers abuses me for typing so much on miraquill hehe, now we can stay here and have some fun. squared: daffodilpearlzz, we are not here to have fun. anush18: what? squared, is everything okay? why do you look upset? is anything wrong? heartsease: guys, look at the title of our meeting it says, " DHOOM AT ZOOM". * aditii_ maaking weird faces after looking over title huh?*
thesunshineloves: did something happen on miraquill? do we have some uncertain things going on? fairytales_: thesunshineloves, i don't really think anything is wrong on miraquill, but i am confused now. squared: yes, something happened and we have forgot many things since the day we joined mirakee(quill). someone you know : what is that squared, i mean we write and we talk, what is missing? please let us know, we make sure to work upon it. someone alive: exactly, let's hear what squared has to say. *someone_alive aka Anjali you just meet me i will see you later*
*making my hand read to punch her face when she comes back on miraquill*
squared: those were the days... days when lockdown was the only boon for us, those days when pubg and call of duty lowered the addiction after mirakee(quill), those days when spamming became our favourite hobby during quarantine, those days when running towards each other post was our only beloved race, those days when our friends POD used to bring tears in us, fo real, those days........... *everyone bidded silence, when heartbeats were beating memories in our stomach*
squared: i wanted to come up this way, out of blue, to remind us all our happenings, which are forever memories for us now. i know it was lockdown and now we have been dancing with our work, online classes, backlogs and home chores and what not, but, loooking over our schedule we can tend to stay on mirakee(quill) for a while, we should grab coffees together on sundays, atleast. asmita_chakraborty: I agree right! too much of studies burns my mind, it's good to hear such words from you squared. timeblossom: yes, I agree with asmita_chakraborty. But what about the title, DHOOM AT ZOOM? *everyone laughs*
squared: well... *gets a call and squared attends that call*
Just a second folks, this call is urgent give me a minute, meanwhile folks continue talking to each other about the title. squared: i am back *aditii_ be like no you are squared* *makes lame face*
okay so what do you guys things, why am i here? anshika_winks: omg squared, don't do this, tell us asap. *squared gets a call again*
sayuriii_: no squared, you are not picking up the call, you called us on zoom, do you know , i have stared at zoom more than i have done this to my own poems. * laugh and cries *
puranidiary : huh? poems now a days i feel zoom either likes me or i like him, we spent almost of the quantity time. *makes sed faces* *students scratching their hairs*
squared had just picked her call and unfortunately she forgot to mute herself.
squared on call- Hey Perman, yes yes i brought everyone on meeting and now i will be revealing.......
_ashna_: who is this perman now? and whom was she talking to? do we have a new member on miraquill? shrey2310: no, *shrey2310 being super smart as always guessed correct, but before he could guess squared muted him* squared: i am so sorry the call was urgent. *gets a call again and now even squared was red*
without muting her mic, "krish, what duh, come join the meeting i said join on time, huh? link i havegiven that link in the group itself, come join, yes krish we will reveal the juries today, now join fast. O M G, what just happened, squared couldn't control herself MORAL: always have patience in your life or it will lead you to disguise XD.
*say_me_krish joins in with hurray face* _creatingworldthatdoesntexist_: i see, krish was here and when i asked krish for outing today he refused to do so. *meet me in the corner krish my punches are eagerly waiting to embrace you*
say_me_krish: ayy! everyone is here, omg aditii_ how could you manage to wake up so early XD aditii_ : shuuuuu -_- soulfulstirrings: beta why are we here, squared said something about revealing? what is that? say_me_krish: yes maa, she was right.
"what does that mean krish" "you didn't share with me" "krish tell me, i will bribe you butterscotch icecreams.
say_me_krish : well, I being the host conducted the challenge and again i would like to send my gratitude towards each and every person for taking out their time and indulging themselves. Without you all, it would have been a fail attempt towards bringing zeal back to miraquill. Thankyou so much.
*the crowd appreciated krish for such a magnificent challenge, hoping to see again next year.
sereiin: krish, are we here to reveal judges? yaya! finally prachii_: rightly said sereiin, even i feel krish will be revealing the judges today yuhu!! finally the day is here. say_me_krish: well well well, miss prachii_ and sereiin di you both beauties are right, i am here to reveal the juries today finally! but but but, there is a twist. ak_anjali_daydreamzz: what twist krish? say_me_krish: the juries will be revealed by the co-host of "A VERSE AND A PEN CHALLENGE". moon_bunny: wait what? we have a co-host we never knew tho? taekook_maknae: exactly moon_bunny, we are getting packets of sunday surprises krish thankyou hehe.
moon_pearl: but who is the co-host? shreyah: omg, i am so eager to know who the co-host is. krish reveal it. say_me_krish: so the co-host for "A VERSE AND A PEN CHALLENGE" is..... la la la la
la la la la
sighsandskies: krish fast, we cannot wait kin_jo: yes krish do it
say_me_krish: hehe, so the co-host of "A VERSE AND A PEN CHALLENGE" is SQUARED. *tan tana tana tana* *claps*
here, we faced some technical issues due to wifi and the videos were paused aditii_ : the videos arent paused, everyone is shocked ! shaiz_fs: omg squared, i never thought this. tamanna3: actually, none of us thought. Everything is just so shocking and even its so good to know.
* everyone was whirling with zeal knowing about co-host*
starrdust: krish do we have more co co co co host ? hehe kiddin but still do we? say_me_krish: no, revealing co-host ceremony is completed hurray. laus_deo: no hurray krish, we still have our juries left and that’s the backbone of todays meeting. say_me_krish: yes yes lets get started squared. squared: so here we are to finally reveal the juries for "A VERSE AND A PEN CHALLENGE" *jury1,2,3,4 joined*
zikra_ and adeeba__: oh wow, we have 4 juries quite excited to know that.
squared: yes, so the first jury is...
over years she has baked spree folding woes into peace nonethless she is my_cup_of_poetry.
*crowd patting their own shoulders as many of them, wait, not many 99% people guessed it right yuhu congratulation* *applauses*
she nestled a diction of homosapien with certain traits of humans feel nonethless she is jeel.
she makes serial ribs against broken cartilage with metaphors color nonetheless she is love_whisperrer
raika_: where is our 4th JURY squared? squared: can anyone guess? daphnae: squared, we just cannot guess anymore, we have our most guessed people here as juries already you know right?
* meanwhile kairos_ anna laughing aloud, as he was the most guessed person but wasn't any of it XD *
squared: so our 4th JURY is someone unexpected again, buckle up your seats native people, here is our final fourth jury
JURY 4 : pranat03
of his haikus and tales sails beside every field of storm to nestle breeze as per promised to sky.
squared: And here, i have revealed all the four juries.