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Writer, Father. Entrepreneur. Bum. Atheist. Recluse. Garhwali. Foodie. Downloader. Drifter. In no particular order.

24.11.05

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It's early in the day, when on your drive back home, you are ambushed by surprise. Panicked bubbles flee your lungs as devil's look-alike, the King in Crimson, pulls you under in the wake of Poseidon. It's a soft rumble strip spiked with odd whistles and pan pipes, as a jazz-smoked drum machine gurgles amicably in the background. You just smile.

You sprint up the staircase with murder on your mind. Your enemy- ye olde adipose.

Then you lie on a bed of opium in the arms of Ayn and dream of pussies and kittens.

Another day.