to whose story would i be addicted. not to mine for sure. for i plead to break out of it every single day. i want to be let out and i want to be me. but then the me is my story too. it is my belief. a prose frankly is not exactly the me that i want to or tend to describe. for then that is always me. a me to be. a me i want to be. i me may be i shall never be.

i run after the sand in a storm. i rig the bills of a dinner i never ate. i sit aside in the warmth of the fire and yet i don't bake. the muffin i had just bitten. a letter i had just written. the words would rebound. the echo that had never lived. the echo who dies amid. i wish the surface was larger, the sound louder than the game. i wish i had prayed harder or at least bent the ground.

"i don't have tea!!!"

really???


"don't I???"

i have to ask this question to myself now. i am not very fond of it but i have it nonetheless. i choose it over coffee at times. just because someone is having it or because it is better at the galla. but i do. and it is not about that coffee anymore it is about sticking to the identity i had carved for myself or maybe people had carved for me.

i know i write after ages but i dare to write this. i don't care if people read it and frankly even if it is not. or do i??? why is it on a blog?? because as anand says its safer!!! or because it is out there??? i don't know, maybe i am too struck by the virus...! the one i have been probing into...thanx to milan kundera and his work..!

Ah! I love coffee. Why did Swathi have to choose this moment to make filter coffee!!!!!! the smell is addictive for me. now i know why i love it. i crave for it at times...and at this moment i cant but hold my breath as a whiff of it reaches me across my room...wow!!! i know why i love it i do...!!

but it is not the only thing i have...i have to be honest...in my own way...i have to may be heed to farzan's words...in my own way...maybe i will...is it so much about my own way again...?? may be not...but i have convinced myself...

can it be happening to me...can i be questioning my own thought to an extent that i am unsure of every belief i have had...have i actually had any belief... has it been just about an identity so far...has it been imitation to form a self or has it been a self which is nothing but replicated in various forms...!!!

can a book really make u think so much...!!! do words really have that power...???

and i a "book lover" as i presumed says this...!!!