Mum once told Dad that vices are only vices when looked at through the frame of society.

“Overhead, the stars were wheeling and infinite, a complicated mobile made by gi…”

“here we were again , always saying good-bye”

“I had a weird, empty feeling inside me. Not a bad sort of empty. It was a sort …”

“It is the first day of November and so, today, someone will die.”