Color me Fall

I met the U.S. in winters, made friends with it in Spring, had long conversations in Summer, but love? Love was waiting for Fall.

There is a certain poetic feel to Fall season – maybe because the air is just the right kind of chilly to make you want to hug someone tight; or maybe it’s the incredible colors around! Or maybe it’s because we know that these unbelievably beautiful leaves are counting their last breaths. Soon, they’ll all be gone. Their bright orange and yellow and pink and purple will soon be one with the brown of dust. And yet, they spend their last moments not complaining or mourning, but making this world a more beautiful, more lovable place for the rest of us.




It was a room full of possibilities.
She could be anyone in that instant, end up anywhere.
She spent an hour or two in Chekov’s Russia, flew over Rand’s utopia and finally settled down in Murakami’s Japan.
They wondered why she spent the whole afternoon huddled up in forgotten corners.