New York Is A Lovely City. It

All Day, The Colors Had Been Those Of Dusk, Mist Moving Like A Water Creature Across The Great Flanks Of Mountains Possessed Of Ocean Shadows And Depths.

Looking A Dead Insect In The Sack Of Basmati That Had Come All The Way From Dehra Dun, He Almost Wept With Sorrow And Marvel At Its Journey, Which Was Tenderness For His Own Journey. In India Almost Nobody Would Be Able To Afford This Rice, And You Had To Travel Around The World To Be Able To Eat Such Things Where They Were Cheap Enough That You Could Gobble Them Down Without Being Rich; And When You Got Home To The Place Where They Grew, You Couldn't Afford Them Anymore.

Could Fulfillment Ever Be Felt As Deeply As Loss? Romantically She Decided That Love Must Surely Reside In The Gap Between Desire And Fulfillment, In The Lack, Not The Contentment. Love Was The Ache, The Anticipation, The Retreat, Everything Around It But The Emotion Itself.

Writing, For Me, Means Humility. It’s A Process That Involves Fear And Doubt, Especially If You’re Writing Honestly.

You Lived Intensely With Others, Only To Have Them Disappear Overnight, Since The Shadow Class Was Condemned To Movement. The Men Left For Other Jobs, Towns, Got Deported, Returned Home, Changed Names. Sometimes Someone Came Popping Around A Corner Again, Or On The Subway Then They Vanished Again. Addresses, Phone Numbers Did Not Hold. The Emptiness Biju Felt Returned To Him Over And Over, Until Eventually He Made Sure Not To Let Friendships Sink Deep Anymore.