Misha Tanveer:
A grey scale photo, of a foggy road amid firs.
Misha Tanveer:
You turn me into somebody loved...
Misha Tanveer:
Self Portrait
Misha Tanveer:
Brutal cold.
Misha Tanveer:
If happiness means walking through these thorns, I'll be glad to.
Misha Tanveer:
Children were brought into this dark world because it needed the light that only a child can bring.
Misha Tanveer:
The tragedy of old age is not that one is old, but that one is young but others fail to see it.
Misha Tanveer:
The final mystery is oneself.
Misha Tanveer:
Hope sang its lullaby...
Misha Tanveer:
Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.
Misha Tanveer:
The Flight of the Wingless.
Misha Tanveer:
Emotions.
Misha Tanveer:
Apparently dead yet alive.
Misha Tanveer:
Mughal Fort
Misha Tanveer:
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