I have been keeping away from books much too long. So I started off The Thirteenth Tale much like a zombie. I just read read read. In between Flipkart, Amazon, Times of India, Facebook, Quora...shifting like someone continuously being bitten by mosquitoes...yet I wouldn't give up. Now finally, for a flitting moment I suddenly felt that joy of reading. Like raindrops on my body, taking away the heat and fatigue, pumping new life, taking me in its kind embrace, that first tinge of excitement, of my senses and feelings returning. I am happy - well, almost :)
I shouldn't shout so much at my parents and granny. I must get a grip on my frustrations. I was extremely tired today. I was slumping down the stairs on some errand, and I got a glimpse - of me struggling with my exhaustion in a very similar way, some years down the line. Only, it'd be an empty house then. Let's not bring out the exasperation now, we can howl in the emptiness then, as much as we want...if life ever changes it will only be for the worse...isn't it?
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