When you start reading a great book, its contours start realigning themselves with your imagination. The spaces between the pause that jumps from one chapter to the next, they are filled with your essence. And no two people ever would imagine a book in the same way: using exact pastels and brush strokes. And that … Continue reading Books



It is my dream that I can not remember, as it is so unbelievably old. Perhaps it was late November, and not much of it my mind now holds. Yes there are images, that flash back when I give it a thought, but I haven't had that dream for ages, so when sympathetic recall it … Continue reading Dream