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  1. I don’t know how you are saying that, but I think, broken shells, broken glass, falling droplets of water, footprints on sand-just about to be washed away and even old mills are fascinatingly beautiful. Just one of my idiosyncracies I guess.

    When the train crosses the area between Mahim and Mahalaxmi, my eyes are always trained outside. The contradiction between the run-down mills and the green foilage around it is just heart-breakingly mesmerising. Or so I think.