Woodwork
My affection, it grew like a tree
Reaching out words like branches
Chopped & sanded till you swept up the scraps
With a broom of the twigs that fell off.
My affection, it grew like a tree
Reaching out words like branches
Chopped & sanded till you swept up the scraps
With a broom of the twigs that fell off.
What a vacuum feels like.
Passive Aggression did that.
I sometimes hear outsiders call Mumbaikers, mechanical. Could that be true? I think we awaken every morning, bright with the colour of our individuality. Then the city crystalizes us into a reverse prism, bringing out only the most necessary aspects of our being and spits us out, still filtered and…
Let us be playersLet us be opponentsLet us be partners-in a dance, in a game Let us be loversLet us be othersLet us be close, only in name Let us be foesLet us be strangersLet us be okay with all things not being the same Let us be all theseLet…
This one is for the people I’ve held in a mental embrace, without letting them know. Maybe someday I will. Maybe tomorrow will be that day.
The Other Side Of The Table by Madhumita MukherjeeMy rating: 5 of 5 stars If you’ve ever been a letter-writer, you will love this book. The story is told entirely through letters between two people. Letter-writing isn’t just a lot art, it’s a lost form of conversations. Time is the punctuation…