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As I clutch a red-capped jar, filled with delicious little homemade orbs of sugar-sweet glory and twenty-two years of childhood, close to my chest and return to a place I will – dramatically speaking – soon cease to call ‘home’, a sudden wave of feelings hits me in the gut, asking me to hold on tight and let go too easily – all at the same time.

Do I begin now?

‘Perspective’ can be downright elusive and transient. One minute you look through the glass and you’re overwhelmed by a sense of direction and purpose. The next minute you’re floundering, grasping stray bits of Bukowski wisdom by their ends – to not fall off.. fall off the wagon that’s helping you steer clear of the trap of the tragic allure of cosy comforts and little green bills; to not lose most of your direction and some of your purpose.

Let’s begin now. No, really, let’s.

June 25th, 2016
Kolkata, India

“I am still on my zigzag way, pursuing the diagonal between reason and the heart.”

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