The pieces of my soul...
Just Caught myself thinking of Horcruxes. One of the most sinister concepts from my beloved fantasy-land. They say only the darkest of souls can tear itself to pieces. They say you have to take a life, every time you do that. Yet, here I am, at my apartment in Evanston, at the dead of the night, And at the same time in Afghanistan, a land I've never seen but always wondered about, through a paperback, And also on a train, somewhere between Bhubaneshwar and Kolkata, as a travel companion to one of my closest friends. At times like these, I'm glad I never got my Hogwarts letter. Scattered all over worlds real and fantastic, the places I've travelled personally and vicariously, at the train stations and airports and hostels and airbnbs, and with all my dear, dear friends... my soul has become such a gorgeous mess! And without taking a single life! Except my own, over and over again, while leaving them behind, saying goodbyes...