AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A DRESS

I was dreamt of in London rain but I carry Delhi summer in my threads.
I was dyed red, a talisman of revolt or pink, dream-city pink the navy blue of India which in fact is indigo.Tie-dye was a manifesto of freedom
Madras crossed border checks
I am cross-cultural by necessity, an antidote to anti-boats, a love letter from home lands
Onto me a million sequins are sewn, tiny mirrors reflecting and blurring the troubled times I am born into. Sequins are my ciphers
Humble coins of entry into the church of glamour
Brown hands across the ocean sew these coded strands, every stitch is a tiny letter of love sent to foreign lands. Now I move on the body of a dancer, in trance, in sweat, in ecstasy.
I am no longer cloth but atmosphere
Seams of pleasure against fresh hell,
A soft and glittering fuck you!

Words By & Images Courtesy: We Are Village PR