Its cold. Blanket beckons, but no.
The drizzle makes the sweetest music as it descends down gently, washing down the trees near to my window pane.
You're all by yourself, ensconced in the comforting bubble made of your own thoughts, without a care to the world. You try to read, but every other sentence only drifts off your thought radar randomly. Somewhere in the background, at a very low volume, Mehdi Hassan croons. All that is missing from the scene is a cup of steaming black tea with some drops of lemon and extra sugar (or someone who would make it for you? ;) )
Peace.
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