There's people and things that eat up your hours and minutes and minds. But more things will come to prey on your life, and everything that's everything will fade and be buried in the clutter of your mind. Someday when you're older, when you're tired enough to sit down and deal with looking back, you'll find whole lives in the clutter of that pile. And maybe some peeling picture will send you searching for some other time, and maybe you'll find the faces you left behind, maybe you'll have the chance to come back. To say hello. To stay, to say, goodbye.

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Author: Kirtana K

I paint and make music and blog like a maniac. These days I try to run. But I have chicken legs and lungs the size of two-rupee balloons. I fail. I like pajamas and striped socks and books that read like song and songs that sound like poetry and strangers who read this page. And Maggi when I'm sick or cold or sad or celebrating. They'll find noodles in my veins if ever they cut me open. And potatoes. And maybe a tiny bit of whiskey. I'll be an Unidentified Living Object and they'll put my insides on display. It will be crazy. It will be awesome. It will.

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