The Weight Of A Shadow

The map wasn't made of paper. It was made from the dried wings of cicadas, stitched together with a thread so fine and silver that Ira’s grandfather used to swear it was plucked from an angel’s wing. ...

Sanjeevani YadavHere, piling up all of the fantasy, I lived through books, stories, my very own fabrication before bed time and even when I was lost in thoughts remarked as "doing nothing", I drafted Ira - the soul of this story. Happy Reading!