As she walks in the garden a slight breeze starts blowing. A stray leaf gets caught in her hair. It’s not a leaf, it’s a memory. It’s a memory with sounds and smells and tastes. It has too many details, details she thought she would forget.
Paris : The dark & rich aroma of coffee, a very handsome Belgian waiter and the sound my cute sandals made on the pavement.
Kerela: Green so green my eyes felt new. Lamps in the night and fireworks across the lake.
Bangalore: Home finally.
Mumbai: Humid bit fun. Loud but laid back. Dirty but organized.
Indore: Same old same old. Grandmother with some new wrinkles. Fragile yet potent.
