"NIJO CASTLE"
Sensuous sussurations of scarcely sensed sound saturate this sublime space. She surveys the serenity and slips unbeknownst even unto herself, into the saga. And I am there too, sneaking into the mise-en-scène.
Silent, solemn, sombre it might be but with a looming sense that the Samurai's stealth will soon overcome the shifty Shogun, shattering the serenity to shards. She knows, suggests it but won't say it.
The picture is perfect and yet perched perilously. Precariously. Push one pixel out of place and perhaps the protagonist might be in peril.
What if the shoulder had not been squeezed?
Would the sepulchral silences have splintered?
[This piece is a contribution from Paritosh Joshi.]
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