old delhi is shrouded in capillaries - electrical wires, telephone wires, mysterious wires, pointless wires, pipelines, tangled kite thread, washing line. it is a tangle that's lyrical and mind boggling at once. if you unravel it, the old city may fall apart.
yet, you would be a fool to mourn.
she has fallen apart and risen time and again. she is indulgent of kings and queens, she likes their ambition - and the immortality they hold in their hearts. delhi was raised by dreamers - none of whom could keep her in their fist. we can rearrange her if we feel like. she can handle one more empire.