He thought it existed only in the North. The uneducated lot. The state of Tamil nadu saw some despicable police brutality. NDTV reported it. He recalled how he was beaten on the eleventh of April for walking without a mask. He was in the perfect health and knew that pandemic was a charade and joke. How naive, he thought, as he walked out of the room! It’s “say no to plastic bags”day He was thinking as he walked out of the room.

He was confused if some days came more frequently than the others. Then he realised: it was the Earth Day and Environment Day earlier in the year. They all brought similar ideas. What had he done for the Earth, for the environment and for humanity. Seeing flaws wasn’t enough. Walking among zombies wasn’t enough.

He liked watching “The Irishman.” Nero was Nero and Pacino was Pacino. One of the greatest myths was acting. Nobody acted. Method was merely imbibing some emotions of the subject in hand. All actors, writers and painters had their idiosyncrasies printed on it. Even those who thought that Atheling or Logos was speaking through them. And then not just them, but everybody. Yes. It was merely forgetting oneself temporarily.
Those who didn’t float in the cosmic ocean felt weight of a freight train. Fiction was addiction: not because it was stranger than reality rather because of its allowing the subjects to say things they would avoid in the non fiction. Story telling comes easiest to sleeping bags. Ennui is a myth. Liquor or drugs did the same- that is why you have a history of most dazzlingly brilliant Galaxy of authors who were obese, alcoholic or addicted to caffeine. Nicotine or caffeine is considered “normal” in artistic circles. As normal as liquor in the poetic circles. Alcohol or caffeine addiction is the most widespread of addictions and is as common among authors as among other creative individuals.