What have I been up to of late? Dreaming. Putting behind me every histogram that I must analyze, I have been caught up in dreaming, envisaging memories of dreams, complete with lights, choreographed movements and expressions, every which of is possible.
I have become more of a romantic, post the sporadic bouts of emotional blow-ups I have half planted myself and half let others kindle. I always was a romantic dreamer, (or a dreaming romantic?)
After many a humble unpublished posts, multitudes of arrogant resolutions to write more frequently and make more sense out of them, I am back to putting together the muddles pool of what I may call my dreams.
Sincerely, not trying any much to make sense of all this, like I do when I read my older posts. I do?
Do I really do? What does it change in my life? For the best I know, I tried last night to cook which started as a craving for the chingri-maach my bengali fantasies are made of, doused in thengapal, befriending my palette with a reassurance of garam-masala.
I think, I really do. I am a romantic alright.
