Old sunlight leaks through this sparkling piece of plastic. My new friend, my new camera. Funny how I build my career in digital and save my memories in analog.


***

I am back from a short trip to the west coast. Being with a long lost friend was like a drug- distanced from my current life, frothy and just enough to not get addicted. Our conversations and moments weaved around our past and our future. It's either reminiscing about what's gone or looking forward to what's to come. The present, evaporates somewhere between there until it becomes the past itself.

***


There is some pain. Life is elsewhere. We are waiting, for it to begin. For it to, really start. What is now then? An interlude to the actual performance, a prologue to the actual story? There is no way to know. No way to tell. I'm twenty-four but, so has life really started or is it about to begin now?

***

Associations change. The pictures we paint in our head change.

June was the monsoon. June was wet yellow flowers stuck on the rusty Fiat's glass window. June was fat pink earhtworms and rainbow umbrellas. June was the smell of burning tar to seal the leaks on the roof. June was new classrooms, mangoes, first love and Barista. June was the familiar, the known. June was home.

Six years later, June is summer. June is by the fountains on cobbled streets, waiting in line for tickets to foreign movies. June is erudite, June is working long hours and enjoying al-fresco BYOBs. June is, waiting. June is anticipation. June is unfamiliar, the foreign. June is learning to say this IS my home.


***

This morning I woke up and I panicked. How could one spend 24 years and not read Peter Rabbit?

I picked up the book.