I miss blogging, writing, typing. At times, my brain is filled with a jumble of words salad, yearning for its hidden words to be deciphered, longing for my trusted oxford to once again; proving its faithfulness paying its deep respect to me as its owner, relieving me (and my head) of the unease tension of not knowing some random words on my mind, which would affect my thinking and of course, inevitably my being.

Writing, to me, is an enthralling business. Stringing together coherent words to convey my meaning, be it cryptic or explicitly graphic - which more often than not, I couldnt find my voice to speak out of. Sometimes I wonder what if, I pursue a childhood dream of writing, being a regular columnist - whose words glossed on the pages of magazines that inspired others, that touched their hearts through the pouring ink from her pen. But that remains a dream - I am no way near that. In fact, so far deviated was I from that pathway today than I was, say, 10 years ago..