FINE FINE!
The weather sure is fine.
I like fine food and fine wine.
I am so, so very fine.
Fine to the point of snapping
Hairline fine, gossamer fine
Of course I’m in a fine mess
With all the unpaid fines
Fine, fine, FINE!
Yeah, sure, I’m fine
The weather sure is fine.
I like fine food and fine wine.
I am so, so very fine.
Fine to the point of snapping
Hairline fine, gossamer fine
Of course I’m in a fine mess
With all the unpaid fines
Fine, fine, FINE!
Yeah, sure, I’m fine
This tiny station doesn’t feature in most Mumbai narratives but Mahim is full of the rich, unspoken connections that make this city.
Today, I met my kinship with you. I walked down roads where you walked so long ago.I stepped into your shoes just to see what it felt like to be you.
“I miss the good old days when portrait painting was the only form of visual reproduction. But of course, you are too young to remember that.” I read the words in a tiny glass screen in the palm of my hand. Not a muscle moved, not even an eyelash flicker….
It takes two to tango. It takes two to talk. Maybe they’re not that different after all. Shall we?
A poem about being knotted in love –
“You had me tied up in knots
turning over your every word
twisting each smile,
into shapes of affection”
Men will never stop attacking my right to speak. My voice is my only weapon and my sole identity.