Hanging out alone on long lonely roads a lot after sun-set; brooding behind shut doors with the lights off is so much me. It’s not that I don’t have friends, but basically I’m a loner. I live a life inside myself. Bending down and looking into the dark deep tunnel that I am, I’m not sure if I would end up with anything sensible after any span of time. But then the end has hardly ever mattered.
/*Thoughts doing rounds*/
/*The thinking-man’s-fantasy is just a hypothesis because the thinking-man is just an oxymoron*/