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The kindest thing literature does is remind you that your peculiar feelings have always existed. Someone, in some century was equally confused, tired of performing, bored of society and hungry for meaning.

There is nothing like the Friday routine. Step out in your cleanest collarless kurta, crisp white socks, and a fragrance that lingers.

Still thinking about the drop of vanilla essence I added to my coffee few hours ago this morning. It’s the little things.

Nope