Touch has a memory…

How would it matter if I were in
the beginning or the end of it, as long
as I could be. There, like I said…


“I almost wish we were butterflies and liv’d but three summer days—three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.”- John Keats, in a letter to Fanny.


Keats died at 25 thinking he were a failure.

I didn’t die in the last few weeks. I didn’t think of failure too. I read fantasy horror (and Shaun gifted me Keats once), wrote a letter and a card, didn’t decide on whether to post one, found exceptional people, spoke to some, and thought about my life scoreboard, generally to take a breather.

Perhaps I’ll get my handwriting back this year. Perhaps I’ll also appreciate summers better, though I’ve always been a snow person. Perhaps all that a summer ah a life needs is 36 conscious hours, for covering all mosts. Almost, made me feel few things would matter. But that’s never true, till it is.

PS: I began this post on the 9th. I cheated. I need more time off, so I’d finish it slowly. Keats in the title too.

5 comments
  1. oh nothing, I thought the break might extend, but then it already got extended, innit ?
    (sometimes I am really thick and take things literally :D)

  2. S- thank you!

    Y- Thanks Y! 🙂 Why bye again? Ya I am liking Fbr so far!!

    Tanvi- Thanks! I don’t think I’ll ever give up on winters too! 🙂

  3. welcome back! (bye again ? :()
    I like summers cos they make me feel liberated but I get bored of it and then start craving for winters! Maybe Keats is right about those 36 hours 😉

    P.S. I am also reading FbR! yay! black swan got postponed cos it just too big!

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