Ar sadsod hotey bhallagchhe na.
Dhyattor.
End of chapter. Closed book. Finish. Khattam shud.

And on that note,
Bookfair booty.
Birthday booty.
Books and movies. And then some more.
Back to dance classes again. Losing it in twirls and baghleis.
Regular work-outs.
Vigorous, stimulating, exciting, brilliant classes. Shakespeare and Bernini. And Gauhar Bai and Bauls and Gandhigiri.

Whee..breathlessness...here I come. :)

*fingers crossed*
Ahem.

Should I go ahead and go all longingmushysadandoverwhelmed?



Or should I go about things just as I have been in the past?



All nice and childish and stupid and laughing and distant and fake and nyaka and masquerading?

Horrible horrible horrible Reading Disorder.

Piles of books all around. Nice, juicy, interesting, fabulous books.

Nothing is being finished. Nothing is being digested.

Have not had the light headed-immersed in fiction-lost to the world feeling for so long.

Gnawing, scratchy, icky mind. Claustrophobic.