Feb. 14, 20xx, “I love you”, …but of pride or just a potent possibility of words never provoked by me, I never said those words before I met you. I cleft to my restraint not to speak the words, like those words carried some sacredness, like the catholic communion that my sinful state should not

I have a special way of writing and it begins by not writing. I slouch in my seat like an old man far far away eating biscuits and drinking tea while reading old dailies on the side of the beach. After I have settled into my slouching position, I begin to look at the Hindu