Atlanta.

It’s as similar to Chennai as can be. The weather, the people, the Indian-ness of the place, everything. Despite much happening, my inner voice seems mighty silent, and observant.

Which is why I chose to make this post soppy and lovesick.

American food is so full of preservative. Your hands and hair and brain start smelling of it.

It’s mixed bag but I like it. It may be a mistake but it’s my mistake.

I have sudden flashes of my life like a week ago, and I choke with emotion for the 3 seconds I have to spare.

It’s only going to get worse when school starts.Or better. The free mind is the Mother of emotional overload.

Did you know you can drink water from the taps in the USA? It’s what I like best about the place.

Capitalism Zindabad. There’s too much choice in the States. Too much to pick from. Then again poverty helps by making you pick the cheapest.

I’m scattered and entering adulthood and real problems and whining and moaning to anybody who will listen.

What fun.

I know I’ll see you again
whether far or soon.
But I need you to know that I care
and I miss you.

‘I miss you’- Incubus