I Don’t Believe This.

I’m sitting in a train on my way home from buying assorted hardwares, and the girl sitting beside me is telling her friend about how she needs to get some sweaters.
Because she’ll need it for Nainital.

SERIOUSLY UNIVERSE?!

By 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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