A Theory of Relativity 2


Note: This story is a part of the series called “A Theory of Relativity’ written by me. To read the earlier parts click here. Blacksmithy The piano was a large ordinary chunk of mass placed almost centrally in the room.

A Theory of Relativity 2


Note: This story is a part of the series called “A Theory of Relativity’ written by me. To read the earlier parts click here. Blacksmithy The piano was a large ordinary chunk of mass placed almost centrally in the room.

A Theory of Relativity


Empirically Strange She liked Frank Sinatra. There used to be evenings when she played his songs as we sat chatting about the inappropriate directions in which our day had gone or the whereabouts of our tomorrows. Sometimes she would make coffee and sandwiches

A Theory of Relativity


Empirically Strange She liked Frank Sinatra. There used to be evenings when she played his songs as we sat chatting about the inappropriate directions in which our day had gone or the whereabouts of our tomorrows. Sometimes she would make coffee and sandwiches

Snow


We can go Where there is snow, And no one can know Us. I will go there Wth a projection of you, Where there is snow, And no one can know Us. Your projection and me Will dance in my

Snow


We can go Where there is snow, And no one can know Us. I will go there Wth a projection of you, Where there is snow, And no one can know Us. Your projection and me Will dance in my

Tickling


Tickling. These are not tears, Just tickling in my stomach, Or moths in my heart, Or whatever. But not tears. They look like water drops, And taste salty as they drip, Across my cheeks and lips But these ain’t tears.

Tickling


Tickling. These are not tears, Just tickling in my stomach, Or moths in my heart, Or whatever. But not tears. They look like water drops, And taste salty as they drip, Across my cheeks and lips But these ain’t tears.

Homecoming


Home Shines far out  In the horizon, Beyond the trees, And behind these Light bulbs. It streams through the wind In locked packets of hope. Like those mountains in  The distance, It’s unreachable, Unattainable. It’s a state. It’s moments. It’s

Homecoming


Home Shines far out  In the horizon, Beyond the trees, And behind these Light bulbs. It streams through the wind In locked packets of hope. Like those mountains in  The distance, It’s unreachable, Unattainable. It’s a state. It’s moments. It’s

The Point of Missing


So yesterday when you slept Of a tired and bleeding soul, I missed you. Like the plain  Missing the rain, The unwanted years  Missing the point, The broken car Missing the headlight, The annual diary Missing the smell of ink,

The Point of Missing


So yesterday when you slept Of a tired and bleeding soul, I missed you. Like the plain  Missing the rain, The unwanted years  Missing the point, The broken car Missing the headlight, The annual diary Missing the smell of ink,

/ Etc.

Pills of Consolation 2


Let the night pass, For the day will be kinder, And fast. Let the night pass. Choice. It’s an illusion. A great one at that.  The variables that define our lives have already been rolled out. And hence we are

/ Etc.

Pills of Consolation 2


Let the night pass, For the day will be kinder, And fast. Let the night pass. Choice. It’s an illusion. A great one at that.  The variables that define our lives have already been rolled out. And hence we are