Puspen was telling me yesterday that Kurosawa's movies are so good, that they are unwatchable, I mean, they show REALITY so well. Similarly, what I'm feeling is un-writable. Un-thinkable too, and I'm not thinking of it. I have let the feelings come and hit me and deflect away (yeah, Puspen, it's your language, I know). My language now, last night, what I exactly felt was that a cold ice knife has pierced me in the chest. It was this feeling, in its exactness. Anyway, back to today, I think it's going to get boring if I write everyday, that things are getting from bad to worse. But they are, and they will, and I have to expect worse, so that I don't feel it anymore. Today, for the first time since all this started, I got violent. Murderous, to be exact. As I said it's un-writable. So, I won't write it. I have already told Sayak, because he asked me how I am, exactly when, I was swallowing the violence.
I can't even write what happened all day today. Anyway, compared to other Sundays of my Kolkata life, today was better. Technically speaking, of course. I wouldn't be feeling violent if nothing bad happened.
Anyway, Sritama called. Bye.
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