User Experience Designer| Theater | Creative Writer | IIT Guwahati www.be.net/sajiyakhal235d
As I lay sleeping in a room, which doesn’t belongs to me, humid air around, I heard a music.
It caught me and pulled me out of my depths of thoughts. Thoughts of home, people, food, rains, books…everything I miss.
“So long as you write what you wish to write, that is all that matters; and whether it matters for ages or only for hours, nobody can say.” ― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own
Have you met me? Or have I met you?Maybe we had an eye contact.Or maybe we shared a table, a cab?I think I waved at you, hoping you weren’t a stranger?Or maybe we exchanged newspaper?
As I walked imperturbable in the sun, near the lake, watching the ducks having their morning feast and parade, I was suddenly struck by a blow of fragrance. All my senses were heightened, not because of anything extraordinary, but because of something ordinary!