Of foldables

It's been long since I've had a good morning.
Mornings that don't are not preceeded by the harsh jangle of the alarm clock trying to furtively dismiss the spell cast by last night's dream. Dream's that involve not waking up to an alarm clock. Of not waking up to the next hundred chores running through your head. Of homes that open out to the sea and smell of breakfast. And those that are right out of a real-estate agents wet-dream. I think of days where I dont have to worry about my daily bread, and more so those that I dont have to worry about bread at all (maybe I'll have a croissant!). Greasy sandwiches served with cold glare dont constitute for breakfast. They have similar effect on the insides and sometimes even on the cosncience. Theres a lot that this city throws at you, amongst all is the tag of "outsider". But in the reams of expletives and the hordes of filth, sometimes it does beckon you over for a warm and grimy hug. And in the midst of all that, you realise that you are prodigal and like countless other people, it's time to fold your bed, unfold your conscience and get through another day.

Gone in 60 seconds

It happenned today. My worst fear come true. "We quit" they said. I did see it coming for a while now. After all, what do you do in a place that doubles up as a free cybercafe? Over the last couple of months of working together, we were a team...almost friends really. The few harbringers of hope in a place infested with mindless monotony and as many organisational layers as the the butter on the Amul girl's bread. So now i'm going to miss the early monring jogs (actually just one, and the hope of a few more) the beer, the mindless banter, the challenges, the laid back attitude and the spirit. And hopefully we shall meet again.
Adieus and God Speed!