Man in Cafe:

Still the days were beautiful when your Facebook  wall never used to get marred with all those frivolous posts from your friends. I remember the time of the day when I found a pic of the famous painting "Man in Cafe" by Juan Gris on my wall. Its still there in my mind because it was shared by a girl from my class on whom I used to have a secret crush.
Well, good old memories, as they always are. Now I am travelling back to  my city and its the time of dusk. The brightly burned sun is getting ready to dip in the arms of the horizon and I am listening to a beautiful love ballad. So you can get an idea of the bitter sweet mood I am in.
The moments when  you feel for someone are actually very momentary. For the rest of the time your life is etched by the factories, machines and the gears of the cities which keep on counting zeroes for you. And pardon me if I am wrong, its the most neo-realist existence of us. There is a subconscious vicissitude which forces art to evoke multiple emotions in the minds of the their viewers. And this amble is creatively syncopated with the likes and dislikes of our life.

Let it be UGLY

A Fat Bloke, a limp beauty and a Marketeer:

I:

The flab on my neck sometimes come to the brim of my chin when I try to ogle at sexy kinky girls through the corner of my eyes. Look this was just a piece of information for you. I am pretty fine with my flab.

Probably these days, even being on the 369th round of Candy Crush and mind you, without taking any fucking help from my friends, doesn't seem enough to put me in my bliss-mood. Ahhh! What the fuck is happening to me?

II:

The crudest feeling of being a beautiful attractive chick miserably fails when my limp leg sends the sudden sharp chill through my spines. It’s pretty hurting as it puts your body to numb for a few black