These untimely rains remind me of those younger days of ennui. Of days when I wandered around lost, with no bearings, no aim. Lost because to a person like me, living without reading is like a druggie without his drugs at hand. Like a fish out of water. I belong only in a world where books are near me wherever I go. Those were days of summer holidays when I went to my grandma's house and felt lost. Everybody brought me books as gift, as loan, as peace offering while my sister got bangles, colourful chains and other accessories and knick-knacks as gifts. Yet, they were not enough for me. I devoured them all and hungered for more. I spent my rainy days in a daze, surrounded by the gloom of a lone house in the midst of a forest. I spent sunny days wandering around the forest, lying on the huge rock and gazing up at the unchanging sky for hours. Sometimes I feel those days were from another life and I am reborn again.
Fleeting thoughts in snippets.