The Game of Thorns (1)
Soulless life Darr nahin lagti hai. * * * Just a random thought penetrates into the mind; just like the unwelcomed dick in her vagina. It doesn't really hurt some months. But it is not the same flesh anymore; the scars of her battle in broad daylight sometimes, in the pinching darkness sometimes have left her to see the (w)hole from an unknown perspective. The vagina has healed, though virginity was never a question to her. She is walking around, eating out at restaurants, sipping coffee, visiting malls. But no more alone. What did she do? Nazma was not rebellious. She did not use to wear shorts or mini skirts like me, neither her tops revealed her cleavage like mine. She obliged to the customary black-clad of the burqa, unquestioned. That is how her god wants the women to stay protected. We had one beautiful thing in common. We both loved black. We like how black just absorbs and accepts everything into itself without revealing, without p