It is almost as if you have just stretched through the veil of time and set off a trigger that works on the premise of remembrance – of a smile, a smirk, the toss of the head or some quirk that you have stored away in memory as an associative remnant.
Nobody would be mistaken if they were to suggest writing a book is so much similar to sailing out in a backwater. You could choose to boat through the familiar waterways, taking in the landscape very much seen before but not lacking in the aesthetic sense, meeting the old faces and fishing nets,
I remember the summer afternoons at my maternal home, Manjadithara, way back in the early 80’s.
The IHM Chronicles Series
On My Nightstand
Tweets and Chirps !
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