I am sitting on the terrace of the company that I work in, under a shadow, hiding from the watchful eye of a vigil sun, which is trying hard to get a glimpse of the earth through the wandering clouds. In a distance, past the artificial erections I can view a mountain range crowned by misty peaks, chanting a hauntingly beautiful song to mock the plight of the people in the city. All the while, being caressed by alternate currents of hot humid and cold winds, I wonder if I'll ever get a change to experience that elating feeling, which isolates me, from the dreary crowd, grabs my hand, and takes me to a place where I can find a calm better than sleep.
Listening to: Bod Dylan
Watching: The blowing monsoon winds