Suman

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Weaver of stories.

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Afternoon light.
In a world of looming paranoia and shifting insecurities, light, I feel, is the only constant. That, and the joy of a good cup of tea.
Homesick. No, food-sick actually. 
Food nostalgia is the worst kind of nostalgia, I believe. And more so when the food in question is gupchup/puchka/golgappa. Sigh.
Chasing vintage.
Curtain raiser.🌸
The quiet beauty
of a beautiful chaos.
Curiouser and curiouser.🐰
एक पुराना मौसम लौटा 
याद भरी पुरवाई भी,
ऐसा तो कम ही होता है 
वो भी हो तन्हाई भी।
— गुलज़ार
Spring promises.
"How I hate this godawful weather and being dressed in ten layers of clothes. Hence, I'll protest by being grumpy and taking off my mittens while she tries and tries for a happy picture."
All very peacefully, of course.😅
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair."
— Charles Dickens, 'A Tale of Two Cities'

Such timeless words! 
Happy birthday, great man!
grainy memories 
and 
grey murmurs 
of an old heart.
When Dickens met Jane.