I love having coffee in tea cups. I want to go to someone's house and be served coffee in fancy cutlery. With dessert.
I'm sitting in the college common room. Have a lot of time to kill. Listening to Video killed the radio star. Makes me want to stand up.
My feet are screaming because I was out all day and soon after I got home I went out to walk. Did so for an hour. Time for my sleepytime tea.
N's little sister, little N I shall call her. She shows up whenever I'm in the kitchen making tea. We have interesting conversations. I often ask her about school and what she's learning. She said they learned about evolution and shapes of galaxies. I asked her whether she talks in class or is she one of the quiet ones. She said she used to be quiet but now she talks. Haha. She's only ten.
I often get quite obsessive when I like a piece of literature. Or any kind of art really. If I really love it, I hesitate in sharing it out of the fear that other people would not love it for the right reasons and they'd fail to see the genius in it. It kind of ruins it. It's selfish of me I know. There are no right reasons I know. But still. Heh.
College is ending.
I am currently reading four books. My mind is being an octopus.
While I walk to my bus stop I often start noticing and mentally making a list of all the trash I see on the road. I don't know why I do it. There are a lot of cigarette stubs and empty packs. Then there was the broken comb. A chocolate wrapper. A piece of cloth. Broken glass. The usual.
I always miss my parents a lot more when I'm around them than when we're in different cities. My babiest babies.
I take pictures of people sleeping. And then I send it to them some time later. I am creepy like that.
Nostalgia hits me like a sledgehammer every time I come back to the hostel. I haven't much time left here. I feel something distinct here. A feeling of its own. It has a certain smell, this place. Neighbours were being loud as usual. Corridor ones and those beyond the wall. Baajay baj rahay thay, literally. V is staying with me so we bought groceries. Filled up the water bottles, cleaned the kettle , rolled up the chick. Felt good.
Every inch of this place screams a memory to me. And it's getting louder every day.
The sky looks brilliant and I have more to say.
But later.
I'm sitting in the college common room. Have a lot of time to kill. Listening to Video killed the radio star. Makes me want to stand up.
My feet are screaming because I was out all day and soon after I got home I went out to walk. Did so for an hour. Time for my sleepytime tea.
N's little sister, little N I shall call her. She shows up whenever I'm in the kitchen making tea. We have interesting conversations. I often ask her about school and what she's learning. She said they learned about evolution and shapes of galaxies. I asked her whether she talks in class or is she one of the quiet ones. She said she used to be quiet but now she talks. Haha. She's only ten.
I often get quite obsessive when I like a piece of literature. Or any kind of art really. If I really love it, I hesitate in sharing it out of the fear that other people would not love it for the right reasons and they'd fail to see the genius in it. It kind of ruins it. It's selfish of me I know. There are no right reasons I know. But still. Heh.
College is ending.
I am currently reading four books. My mind is being an octopus.
While I walk to my bus stop I often start noticing and mentally making a list of all the trash I see on the road. I don't know why I do it. There are a lot of cigarette stubs and empty packs. Then there was the broken comb. A chocolate wrapper. A piece of cloth. Broken glass. The usual.
I always miss my parents a lot more when I'm around them than when we're in different cities. My babiest babies.
I take pictures of people sleeping. And then I send it to them some time later. I am creepy like that.
Nostalgia hits me like a sledgehammer every time I come back to the hostel. I haven't much time left here. I feel something distinct here. A feeling of its own. It has a certain smell, this place. Neighbours were being loud as usual. Corridor ones and those beyond the wall. Baajay baj rahay thay, literally. V is staying with me so we bought groceries. Filled up the water bottles, cleaned the kettle , rolled up the chick. Felt good.
Every inch of this place screams a memory to me. And it's getting louder every day.
The sky looks brilliant and I have more to say.
But later.
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