Step into the whimsical charm of Wes Anderson movies, where retro vibes meet heartfelt storytelling.

Song of sapphic orange juice by Aadrit Banerjee citrus blues on soft carpels, a tapestry of fibres weaved on them, lemon smell bringing memories of a hundred winter tales of grandmothers sewing, and shelling oranges, and afternoons of tangy flavored- kisses, peeled skin scattered over green grass, so red inside, winter sunlight playing on nude bodies tangled over graveyards, and half-eaten oranges over Jamali-Kamali's tomb, shaped like smiles of female hysteria, hidden under

Still Life with Skull, Leeks, and Pitcher by Pablo Picasso (Assume all trigger warnings) Until the mo(u)ring flickers in an oil lamp again by Shailja Bahety The red silk light escapes the oil lamp and settles in the sky while the night shatters inside its glass and the dawn flies away with colours for yet another mo(u)ring. The world is what it doesn't seem to be. It is a pool ball on God's billiard table, who wears a linen maxi dress and is never drunk on prayers because she