But that's it. No more until next week. No. No. No.
Asking Forgiveness
I am mushroom on which the dew of your grace drops now and then.
Let us harbour no thoughts of revenge, for revenge proves its own executioner.
Ours are the silent griefs which cut the heartstrings. Let us shake hands with time. Let us drown our differences in a cocktail at Ashoka Hotel tomorrow at 6.30pm.
Yours,
3 comments:
We want more!
Chris
That book was the buy of the century!
buy of the century no less!
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