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Diya Bedi

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//She felt him in every fabric she touched. She felt those falling silk curtains as her silk halter dress, he gifted on her sixteenth birthday. How beautiful the day was when he first embraced her and then gave life to her parched lips! The cold white cotton sheets that once used to be coloured with love is now just an impression of bleak emptiness. His hands that used to caress her withered cheeks are lost somewhere on that velvet glove she possess as his last memory. //She felt him in every fabric she touched. She knew her story was no different. It was same as cold as goodbyes and as piercing as a hot knife. The chill winds of agony stabbed her favourite woollen sweater that forced her to hate that little piece of woven wool. The thin threads of pashmina tangled in her numb fingers, made her believe in the bitter truth of her life, his love was like those thin threads that broke her soul easily. //She felt him in every fabric she touched. The chiffon dupatta that is now faded tells the story of her life permanently advancing to dusk. She burnt his photographs, her diary yet he left himself in all those fabrics she once used to love. ©diyabedi #fabrics #first_post

//She felt him in every fabric she touched. She felt those falling silk curtains as her silk halter dress, he gifted on her sixteenth birthday. How beautiful the day was when he first embraced her and then gave life to her parched lips! The cold white cotton sheets that once used to be coloured with love is now just an impression of bleak emptiness. His hands that used to caress her withered cheeks are lost somewhere on that velvet glove she possess as his last memory. //She felt him in every fabric she touched. She knew her story was no different. It was same as cold as goodbyes and as piercing as a hot knife. The chill winds of agony stabbed her favourite woollen sweater that forced her to hate that little piece of woven wool. The thin threads of pashmina tangled in her numb fingers, made her believe in the bitter truth of her life, his love was like those thin threads that broke her soul easily. //She felt him in every fabric she touched. The chiffon dupatta that is now faded tells the story of her life permanently advancing to dusk. She burnt his photographs, her diary yet he left himself in all those fabrics she once used to love. ©diyabedi #fabrics #first_post

Vinay Kumar

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Sonia Terra

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Painting on fabrics under work...

Painting on fabrics under work...