'is it autumn?
Nay...
It is monsoon sure...'
he thought
Riding through
By chance almost
A stretch of road
Which ran wide
And lone
Straight through
A wasteland almost...
Where mist gathered
Made visible only by headlights
Of zip zapping cars and bikes...
And of course
Sometimes
By posts of lights
Standing like round spread areas of yellowish bright
space...
he pressed by reflex
Clutches
And moved down...
Slid
From fourth to third...
he felt he did not need speed...
he felt he needed less speed...
Lesser one
So that
That curious eerie mist
Could his visor gather...
A bit...
'this wasteland...
She is breathing out...
Mist...
She is just breathing out moisture...
And so this mist here...
And i don't want to miss it...'
he analysed...
Thinking
Biological...
Thinking stomata...
Thinking chlorophyll...
Thinking that tub with plant by plastic cover experiment
Learnt...
In his childhood...
With and without light...
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