Its irritating. So Uncomfortable. When you are calm...
inside...outside... where ever you reach to yourself....what ever you
can touch of your self... Its awfully quiet everywhere. Disinterest is
an interesting word. She thought he was growing inside her. Shekhar, she
read him every day, word by word or thought by thought. But he slips
from her. He is far somewhere. In some city, she never dwelled. At some
coffee house, she despised. He is far from her yet she knows he is
growing inside her. Secretly. Love. Oh. She feels dull on hearing the
word. Like a coffee over drunk. She hopes to find a better sleep now.
Things around her does not interest her ... snow... if only it had been
little snow and she could breathe beneath the earth. There must be
another world beneath. She slips into her blanket into a voice warm into
a world dark...
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