I just can’t concentrate so I decided to write to you. It’s queer I can’t get you on the line and I am afraid to sms you.. I don’t even know when you will read this. I feel in my being a razor sharp pain but I can’t define it. Only I know it’s a kind of silence, creeping in upon me, a vast ocean which has lost its blue. I am looking at the books you have given me. I am looking how you have addressed me, my name written in that bold scrawl, in fact, I am looking at you. I desire you but the moment I finish typing my desire is already a past tense.
I do not ...