As much as I’d love to believe the sun shines for us and the moon personifies beauty, I know we’re deluded. A star that burns and a chunk of rock that steals light can’t inspire. Romanticism, that’s what literature has become. What is life but a celebration of perpetual vanity?
Bharath Upendra 1 Minute
Published by Bharath Upendra
I'm that cynical, sarcastic, hypocritical self loathing masochist you rarely cross paths with. View all posts by Bharath Upendra