Clouds in Darjeeling

Bits of the cloud are not big enough for hills to obscure and eliminate but enough of the vapor as though they spoke white words of passion. If it rains they shall disappear in tea bushes.They are self-destructive,you see,in the hills.

They enter your bed rooms, to the fireplace but the fire got put out during the British days and there are some cinders and charred logs. But there is no danger of fire singeing their flanks.

They freely move about in the room touching cold cheeks to remind their lost youth. In the mall they spit vapor to make ghosts of men in long overcoats, their cell phones placed in ears to prevent from singing needless songs in them.

If they enter ears they turn into a buzz like bees.