Walking up the stairs to work today, I smelled that spicy smell of burning wood, which reminded me of the Delhi winters of my childhood. I have been back for a little over a month now (permanently) and I often have moments like this – where the smallest thing feels oddly familiar, an un-spooky déjà vu because the memory if you can call it that is little more than a distant feeling, a long lost friend whose name I cannot quite remember.
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