I don't know how I'm feeling. It sounds terribly vague, and vague it is.

Flesh and blood have turned into a pale shadow of the contour. I don't know for sure, if I've ever felt like this. We do go round and round the prickly pears, at five-O-clock in the morning.

Amazing, we still exist.

Pinkish haze. All over the dark sky, as if the stars are celebrating an early christmas.

Across the Universe

One or two pieces of a lost universe. Smatterings of what could have been. Paper cups. Hazy outlines of a John Lenon poster. Smiles, yellow, rusty, and decaying.

From nowhere, the baritone of Suman Chatterjee, my Suman Chatterjee, streams in through the shutters. 

Nothing's gonna change my world...nothing's gonna change my world......