Every time I tell myself that I'll write regularly. Every time I look back at the last post and curse myself.
This one was supposed to be written on August 18, just before I left for videsh.
But now I am here, on my first rainy evening, in a nice cosy room, with an Ikea bed waiting to be assembled and I've finally pushed myself to type.
One week away from home has been a strange to say the least, mornings the most difficult. Little things bring back memories, the smell of zeera in the kitchen or a piece of colourful woollen textile in my museum class. Strange doesn't even begin to describe it but I am thankful for many things.
A beautiful city. Some very friendly people. A pretty room. A stuffed fridge. The anticipation of many museums. The colour of the leaves changing right outside my window. Being this close to a swimming pool after years. Cooking on my own and not killing Suvidhi with my culinary skills. Being by myself and learning to enjoy it :)
The year ahead I've been told will be crazy. I am just preparing for the ride!
This one was supposed to be written on August 18, just before I left for videsh.
But now I am here, on my first rainy evening, in a nice cosy room, with an Ikea bed waiting to be assembled and I've finally pushed myself to type.
One week away from home has been a strange to say the least, mornings the most difficult. Little things bring back memories, the smell of zeera in the kitchen or a piece of colourful woollen textile in my museum class. Strange doesn't even begin to describe it but I am thankful for many things.
A beautiful city. Some very friendly people. A pretty room. A stuffed fridge. The anticipation of many museums. The colour of the leaves changing right outside my window. Being this close to a swimming pool after years. Cooking on my own and not killing Suvidhi with my culinary skills. Being by myself and learning to enjoy it :)
The year ahead I've been told will be crazy. I am just preparing for the ride!
