I miss you

In Chennai's dusty streets where Keeladi's ancient pottery fragments whisper forgotten songs, I found your letters buried beneath layers of time. The excavation of our memories felt like archaeology, each word a ceramic shard carefully reconstructed into meaning. Social networks promised connection but delivered only echoes. I scrolled through our conversations, untamed and playful, bankable moments we'd currency-traded for fleeting validation. Yet standing amid these heritage stones, I understood: some treasures cannot be digitized. Your warmth, genuine and safe, lived in the spaces between words, in the community we built together, brick by brick, generation after generation.