She told me at length, that her past was (is) broken. I heard her out. I felt for her. She seemed bothered, her past was interfering in her present, or so she felt. Especially in her ability to decide or even cremate.
One day, when I have the courage, I am going to walk upto her and say -
"Your past na..... Have heard it in some measure. Dont claim to understand or rationalise it. I am always around. I do have few questions though.
Your past, does it belong to someone?
What language was your past written in?
Did you tinge your ink with lime? How else did you get used to the constant sourness?
Do I need to see the cracks in your tongue, to understand your story?
What size is the blackhole in your heart? Does it have a Sun?"
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