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the grey

One of those days when the events mirror the weather. I am reeling from this news. Because when someone is there, even if that someone is on the periphery of what you know as your reality, you tend to assume that someone will just always be there. But that is not the case. And maybe you shouldn't be shocked because these things happen and there is no way of knowing and it is the ebb and flow of it all and sometimes the wave is just too overwhelming, but you still wonder why. 

Even though you know it is so pointless to ask.


This year. Everything about this year.

More and more often, I wonder what the hell we are doing. It seems like an elaborate guessing game at best. We stumble around. Run into each other. Hold on. Let go. Break each other in the process. And it all happens so fast. And sometimes we heal. And sometimes we don't.

Yesterday I went to the museum on my lunch break. This piece by Alwar Balasubramaniam spoke to me:



The in-between space, where nothing is definite.

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