We're Free to Roam

Mehul Malik

Mehul Malik considers his conventional titles, like writer, filmmaker, and screenwriter, to be heavily suffocating, which is why he prefers being called an artist.

First, the beds are moved out. Then the tables. Chairs follow. Everything smaller goes after. The

walls are stripped of faces fit in frames. Did the walls cry, or were they happy now, rid of the

burden of love? The cupboard fell twice when they moved it. Maybe it wanted to stay. Maybe

one more day? The stove is extinguished. It gave up before the others. The balcony still holds all

the sunlight in the world. But now it warms empty floors, not plants and hands. In some

timeline, this place was briefly mine.

This is how a home becomes a house.

First, the beds are moved out.