Essay from Bakhora Bakhtiyorova

Young Central Asian woman with a pink tee shirt and jeans. She's standing in a passageway outside with green plants growing over a fence.
Bahira Baxtiyorova
Stupid Elevators

That morning without you again... does it have to be bright?" says my lightless gaze. I come to the window with my forehead straining... it's as if the world from the upper floor falls under your feet. If only dreams would fall like this under my feet, I would immediately take you, the most elegant wish among them, and hold it in my arms.

I sat on the windowsill and rested my head on the frame, observing the world. When I fall asleep, I still miss you. The morning is breaking, the swallows are so lonely, huh? He flew deep. Calling the roosters, as if we are the wakers of the clear morning, as if we are bringing the sun...
Heh, you're just like my naive gullible swallows...
In fact, you don't know about the rains.. Just like my faith...
Morning thoughts...

Hot coffee likes to give my sad thoughts a little light... Its aroma is comforting... it's so bitter... coffee without sugar.
Just like my grief. It's bitter and it doesn't need false comforting sugar. However, just as sugar cannot suppress the taste and aroma of coffee, so my simple consolations cannot suppress my sorrows.

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