like the teeth in all our pictures. they have to show, they have to be the most commented about.
like the food mania that descends on us each time we walk down Ram Maruti road, Thane.
like the inner bitch who surfaces to crib, claw and disintegrate every issue and person when we are together.
like how time flies when we are gossiping.
like the look that passes between you that only you get and she gets and so does she.
like the pain you feel is reflected in the panic in her face.
like the smile you have thinking about juvenile cracks.
like the joy of saying fulao, fafad and laftof.
like being in one place at one time.
like dragging a scooter and a bike and planning devastation for the ones who dared to puncture our tyre.
like spending a lot of time cutting, pasting, painting stuff and finding immense peace in it.
true. somethings are meant to be. somethings, are just home.