Drinking Thums Up and watching Mad Men on a chilly Delhi evening, there's nothing in this WORLD I want more than to put some words out there.
I want to write. I want to write so bad that it's an empty ache in my throat that I carry around all day. But words are not formed of empty aches. Words need patience. And blood. And the sweat of the brow. And everytime, EVERYTIME, a little part of your soul.
I want to write. I want to write so bad that it's an empty ache in my throat that I carry around all day. But words are not formed of empty aches. Words need patience. And blood. And the sweat of the brow. And everytime, EVERYTIME, a little part of your soul.
1 comment:
nice blog
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