I can't believe I'm posting another shmuck-filled whine-a-thon(or soliloquoy, in euphemistically literary terminology).
I dont want to leave. Today was the last exam. I sat on the bench with Mariam and Meher and watched the group of kids coming out of the library(aka. examination hall). In their dangling ties, and their exam-friendly beards, and their fly-away hair. I watched as Akbar acted crazy, Usman chuss-ofied, Bisma chuss-ofied even worse, and Taha acted as if he'd just ran an hour-long marathon(the exam:P). I watched Rida and Zara and Aveen.

I began to remember.

This isn;t just a "moving-on". This is a trade-off between our lives as they were till now, and the real world. Sharp. Nostalgic. But inevitable.

Words, they feel like reed pipes. Hollow.

When I was in Egypt, I kept getting compliments on my articulance, but when it comes right down to things that really, really matter, where sentiment tends to overflow, I shut up. Words seem crass. Like sex without love. And paintings without a purpose.So I shutup. Silence is much the stronger force.Much the deeper.