Sometimes you chance upon something, that something which can strike you right inside. It will cut you through and yet it won’t kill you. You will just know it’s you, in a way. I chanced upon Pablo Neruda tonight. Years back I had chanced upon Khaled Hosseini. It’s my style. It’s my pattern. Deep layered enigmatic imagery irony of emotions. I love the pieces.
I am not supposed to be awake now. I am supposed to be tired. I am teary again. I miss D. Ruffle of the hair. That way.