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Diary of Jain

What do you remember? Red chairs – I replied. Because there were more chairs than people. I often find it hard. To fill my own shoes. Let alone someone else’s. They placed in front of me a finger bowl. And in it floated an unassuming slice of lemon. Lemons, like people, have destinies. This entry was posted in Uncategorized. February 7, 2015. Love poem / Houses within rooms. This entry was posted in Poetry. November 23, 2014. Things I want to tell my friends before I leave. I know you were waiting for me.

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Diary of Jain | diaryofjain.com Reviews
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What do you remember? Red chairs – I replied. Because there were more chairs than people. I often find it hard. To fill my own shoes. Let alone someone else’s. They placed in front of me a finger bowl. And in it floated an unassuming slice of lemon. Lemons, like people, have destinies. This entry was posted in Uncategorized. February 7, 2015. Love poem / Houses within rooms. This entry was posted in Poetry. November 23, 2014. Things I want to tell my friends before I leave. I know you were waiting for me.
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1 diary of jain
2 menu
3 skip to content
4 things
5 leave a reply
6 chairs
7 why those
8 shoes
9 finger bowls
10 share this
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diary of jain,menu,skip to content,things,leave a reply,chairs,why those,shoes,finger bowls,share this,like this,like,loading,by shastij,you are beautiful,lucid dreaming,on white bedsheets,whispering,are made of,only because,limbs slack,i wonder,twenty
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Diary of Jain | diaryofjain.com Reviews

https://diaryofjain.com

What do you remember? Red chairs – I replied. Because there were more chairs than people. I often find it hard. To fill my own shoes. Let alone someone else’s. They placed in front of me a finger bowl. And in it floated an unassuming slice of lemon. Lemons, like people, have destinies. This entry was posted in Uncategorized. February 7, 2015. Love poem / Houses within rooms. This entry was posted in Poetry. November 23, 2014. Things I want to tell my friends before I leave. I know you were waiting for me.

INTERNAL PAGES

diaryofjain.com diaryofjain.com
1

Annoying expressions | Diary of Jain

http://diaryofjain.com/annoying-expressions

I find it strange. I know him like the back of my hand. I would rather know him. Like the curve of my fingertips. Cold against warm skin. Trailing over and over again. Till goosebumps rise in protest. Or like the palm of my hand. Where the lines have been. His evening stubble, etching memories. In fact I would rather not know him. Like the back of my hand at all,. For when have I known it. Raised in forlorn goodbyes. This entry was posted in Poetry. September 12, 2014. Lucid dreaming →.

2

shastij | Diary of Jain

http://diaryofjain.com/author/overlord

I am a house. I love how you can discover a place. Without it asking questions of you. How you can run your hands across walls. And stand on your tip toes to peek into windows,. Without the place rattling the doorknob that leads to you. It knocks, and waits for you to open the door. People are not the same. People knock and knock and knock. People rattle the doorknob. People ring the bell, and sometimes look under the mat for the key. They look under the potted plant. And above the door frame. They are j...

3

Lucid dreaming | Diary of Jain

http://diaryofjain.com/lucid-dreaming

Written with the ink of the night. My dreams hide from rays of sunlight. And as I hesitantly put my feet on the floor. I wonder where do dreams go? Do they crawl on to my back. And perch on my shoulders. Getting heavier as the day goes by. This isn’t what you wanted,. You didn’t even try.’. Maybe they evaporate into stars. For somebody else to wish on. Or dissolve into stardust all of us. But what if they get lost in the endless sky,. Only because I did not try. Do they fall off with the burnt edges.

4

Diary of Jain | Page 2

http://diaryofjain.com/page/2

The vodka singed down my throat. Eating away at the meaty bits of consciousness. Till only floating faces and vague smiles were left. And I sat in a corner. Watching a single light multiply into plenty. Diverging, converging, diverging. And sighed at how clichéd my drunken thought process was. Because those lights were like people in my head. Red, green, red. Diverging, converging, diverging. And so I drank some more. Until the lights all walked into each other. Red, green, gred, reen. May 26, 2014.

5

Twenty | Diary of Jain

http://diaryofjain.com/twenty

Do you remember the feeling you got. When you were 8 and walked on a slightly raised, narrow but not. Quite thin platform, carefully putting a step. In front of another. Making sure you didn’t touch the ground? Teetering and flailing your arms, a worried expression. Plastered across your face. As if, if you didn’t make it till the end. You would have somehow lost,. It was almost as if you had come too far to go back. But not far enough to step down from the platform. With your dignity intact. This entry ...

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Diary of Jain

What do you remember? Red chairs – I replied. Because there were more chairs than people. I often find it hard. To fill my own shoes. Let alone someone else’s. They placed in front of me a finger bowl. And in it floated an unassuming slice of lemon. Lemons, like people, have destinies. This entry was posted in Uncategorized. February 7, 2015. Love poem / Houses within rooms. This entry was posted in Poetry. November 23, 2014. Things I want to tell my friends before I leave. I know you were waiting for me.

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