Bombay is built on trash. It’s incredible story is literally buried under miles of garbage. Waste so deep that you really have to concentrate to see it’s wonder and beauty. But if you are patient and willing to put in the work, the moment you get a glimpse you can see her: glorious, busteling, creative, shining, beautiful. And it’s worth it. All of it. Just to see her true self shine.
I’ve buried my heart. Deep down inside myself, under layers of hurt and disappointment and yearning and breaks. I’ve hidden it so deep that it’s almost impossible to see what and who it really is: glorious, busteling, creative, shining, beautiful. So I am digging, breaking away the layers of detritus until my heart can sing again. It’s been silent for too long. And it is worth it, the digging. Because buried underneath all that crap… is me.