I am not sure when this became my thing. But it has. Taking photographs of flowers in the balcony of my house that also capture a piece of the world outside. Snapshots of an urban dusk. There is something about that interplay of the receding daylight and growing inkiness of the coming night diffused by the streetlights, of the dark maroon of the boxed railings and the splash of greens and yellows and reds and purples and whites. From a particular angle, the flowers are also rimmed by a warm glow from the street lights on the opposite side. It is ordinary and common and magical at the same time. And it has helped me realise that grace and beauty can thrive even amidst chaos, even when confined, even in a few square feet, as long as they can take root, have a little water and some light.