I have always tried to remember what my thoughts were – yesterday or the day before. My memory of something – that I had imagined or of my dreams- have always been like- I have been watching from the other side. Fleeting images – like charcoal sketches pass my eyes. A muddled Park Street with yellow taxis, rain drenched CP, the long walk with Asha in JNU to Poorvanchal, standing outside Koshy’s in the rain, walking along the pukur behind the Centre after classes, lighting a fag outside Tamarind at Garia Haat (with Anjan Da beside me), watching N as she walked past the basketball court in Jaya Nagar, driving back to Thiruvalla, a windy late night at Meer Ghat (in B/W grainy particles), when Sara (Kate Beckinsale) attempts to light a crumbled cigarette as she hides from the rain(in Serendipity). . Faces- the ones looking at me, the ones that I look at from the corner of my eye. These figures- they move, they stand still, they fall on the ground and vanish in a water-splash—they are neve