In the frame today:
- Virginia Woolf by Alexandra Harris, a signed copy from JLF last year.
- Freshly baked whole-wheat choco-chip banana bread.
- Freshly brewed cup of french press.
Let me be before I run into oblivion.
Spilling fears and spilling regrets; I don’t wanna be one of those.
Just; for once let me be before I run into oblivion.
7 year old me: Hi daddy, I wanna be a teacher when I grow up, I think I can teach better than Ms. Neelam.
Dad: Sure sweetheart. You can be whatever you want when you grow up.
9 year old me: Daddy I wanna be an astronaut just like the two girls in chapter two of my English book. They float in space, even I wanna float in space.
Dad: Sure sweetheart why not? Continue reading “Hi Dad.”
Fiction does not interest me. It has never interested me as a matter of fact. Because there’s hardly any need for me to read about the unreal stuff when so much unreal is already happening around me in the non fiction or in the life.
There are fantasies inside me. And desires; which run unfathomable miles across my soul and make me ache for an immeasurable pleasure of loneliness.