Wednesday, October 9, 2013

A Sunday in 1997

I take the second hit while he is massaging my back, and suddenly I am transported back in to the past. Its an early Sunday morning, my dadi is making parathas, and she asks me to go grab the morning paper from the patio. I can smell the sweet smell of her warm parathas.
Back to the real world.
More hits. 
 

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