It seems that all his life, life was preparing him for this, the stage with no memories. No old houses to see, no childhood stories to relive, no family photographs to revisit time and again. Whatever he had loved became distant eventually, whatever he had collected was left out, whatever he built, disappeared on its own. The good thing was, he could’t look behind. A man with no memories can only look up to the future, right?
Adee.
00:59, May 28, 2014
Born in New Delhi, India in 1980 and is a retired pessimist (still) living in New Delhi. He has Haryanvi ancestors, a Punjabi girlfriend, friends all over the world, two (or more) yet to be born children, (many) memories of (many) pet dogs and no cats ever. He holds an honours degree in English Literature from the University of Delhi and creates advertisements for paying the bills. His interests are universal, and include: living, eating, sleeping and when not sleeping, daydreaming. Other abiding interests include reading, writing, street photography, newspaper editorials, watching the moon and planning trekking trips that never materialize.
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