Ghaziabad, on the periphery of Delhi suffers from a severe concrete fever. The Bhuapur Village stands beside other identical high-rises not far from the Delhi flower market. A hard to define beauty envelops this labyrinth of stairs, repetition of floors in a discontinuous and raw harmony. Women who live there wander through the same old corridors like fish swimming in a fish bowl. They close the curtains and become curtains.
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