because….
things have been going wrong with me for quite a while now…i think right since early 08, and when my purse got pick pocketed in a very crowded metro yesterday evening around 8, i had finally had enough. i somehow
The Calligrapher – Edward Docx
My letters looked beautiful, no doubt, but writing when you’re upset is like writing when you’re drunk: it feels great at the time (profound, even) and yet when you read it back in the morning – my God. Even at
out of _____, out of ____?
distance makes the heart grow fonder, they say….works for me.but it also makes the heart look elsewhere…seen it happen once too many times… but there’ll always be home, and friends. the wonderwall.and there’ll always be.the roadside chai shop.the place at
what?
this is about nothing in particular…about crushed roses, maybe…or a song which keeps playing in my head…a tune which refuses to go away.scraps of verses written here and there.a half finished paperback.a verry old photograph which got me really nostalgic.going
