the glittering lights of palaces and havelis,
made double, golden, by the setting sun and a twilight lake,
here there is romance, undoubtedly,
yet one must be wary of such splendid pleasures, for what glitters can obscure, transform, create love where there is none,
for it is better in the darkest alleyway, the dirtiest street corner, the ugliest face, an outstretched hand, if the heart is open and free.
that is love.
romance is only a beautiful reflection.
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