We turned Three.

Dear Zonk,

I logged in to the blog after several weeks today, and found this –


Three whole years, Zonk. Of whining and tale-telling and sulking; and you. Time flies. And I’m afraid I have too little to show for it. And that it grows littler everyday. Because, if you really think about it, I don’t have much more now than I did three years ago. A few more skills, maybe. And a vastly quieter blog.

Love always,

Ps. If you’ve been here for more than a little while, thank you for sticking around. I love you. And I’m sorry I’ve been so quiet.


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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