At times, it feels like the world is floating away on a peacock feather. On something light, airy and midnight blue. There we are, on a perfect, iridescent filament. It will come to life with the first hint of moistness in the air. The world feels grand and opulent. The world feels like it’s floating away on the impeccable virtuosity of Mughal taste. Floating away to find ourselves perched on a cathedra that announces the invincibility of beauty. At times, it feels like the world will find itself on the Peacock throne.
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