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when I am pen downing my self made drama love to you as its the only reality with me either way, I really wonder at the approaching fag end of mine. I remember in 1983 it was a small room surrounded by dingy environs possible ever where I used to spend my lonely nights an eternal truth ever since I happen to have to breathe around say just of my own. A shabby cot and a ceiling fan one bulb nothing else even to mention if I wish so. No bloody pillow , cover cloth worth the name on bed to say like. When I go to village I used to have this environs say before a few yrs or rather say months. Such stark realities faced me when I used to help ricky at his place but I am avoiding those filthy moments for the time sake. silence of unfinished letter s is more potent to volcanoes. I could have added to that letter only but you see straight paths are for fools only.
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