Today was rainy. We hauled our poncho-clad selves onto the streets, every droplet dampening our moods by the minute.
Sought shelter in Paddy’s Market with our half-frozen cheeks. Papa likes walking through fish and vegetable markets. And buying fruits.

Hyde park / St Mary’s cathedral / National Museum

Every night, the only person left awake is me. I’m the only one left listening to the snores around me. Insomnia is, really, an awful feeling. To want to sleep, to know that you have to sleep, but not being able to – it leaves you frustrated and more awake than ever

Read through my notes, saw this:
Writing captures the thoughts that race through your mind at a particular point in time, as well as the emotional state of mind you hold at the point of writing. You have your emotional tides- in its peak you can write a flurry of details. And when it recedes you write more factually, reflectively perhaps.
In any case, I think reading my drafts bring about a very queer feeling. I look at them, no longer in the state that I was, but remain intrigued by how I felt the way I felt, how I thought the way I did. I suppose that’s why I’m thankful for blogging, these seemingly trivial details will in time become the most precious and genuine reflection of how I thought and felt at that particular time period. We always fail to notice how precious the happy present can be, until it becomes a memory that you long to go back to.


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