“Fix the bug”, she said. “I will”, I replied. While I take care of all the issues with this very website, I notice just how much of us is here. Present. In these words, images, videos, letters, ghiblis, and blue links. This is a digital portal to look back on the time we spent together.
Dear Luvhon, I’m writing this late at night, with my eyes hurting, trying to put into words what I’m feeling. This past year — and especially the last couple of months — has been gruelling on my heart, on my mind, and most of all, on my soul. I’ve tried everything under the tree. I’ve
I twist and turn in the bed as the fan keeps making the strange sound. We’ve had this fan for months now, and it’s the first time I’m noticing the sound. Bizarre. Now that I have nothing in the house, sounds and visuals like these keep coming up. The fridge also makes a continuous squeaky
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Taste. That’s what’s missing. No maybe it’s the sight. Her face. But It can also be touch. The smell of her hair. Or her “Bunny, aajao” calls in the morning. I never think about this when she’s here. And it’s fascinating to think how her mere presence saves me from so much torment. For example,