Self realisation: where you learn that those beady eyes in the mirror are your own

A spectacularly interesting woman once told me that she sees herself everyday. Which kinda messed up my mind cause I really started thinking about it and I realised that it is true. Everyone sees his/her selves every frikkin day. Like you are your own camera following yourself around, spying on every little thing you do. You are your own serial stalker.

Speaking of which, two truly hunky chaps and me went shopping for Contessa’s the other day. Yes its true. We are pure genius. There are few things more exciting than slowly approaching a sleeping beauty such as the Conti. Watching it lying so lazily on the road, so confident in the knowledge that it was miles ahead of its time. The Conti, to me, looks like a proper, feral beast. The killer kind which will stretch lazily and give you an evil glimpse of it’s sharp, sharp claws. Wink at you before sinking teeth into neck, crushing your windpipe.

Leaving behind this trail of burnt rubber, smoke and the feeling that everyone else is just in slow motion.

Gorgeous speciemen this was, although the bugger was asking too much. Also the inside smelt like dog pee and the windshield wipers were in the trunk for some reason. And one of the A/c vents was not working. And there was quite a bit of rust.

But still. What a beauty.

A Shawarma is a loaf of thin Pita bread like roti, wrapped around chunks of grilled chicken and a few vegetables dunked in a creamy sauce. They wrap it in these sheets of translucent paper, peeled away as per convenience. At some places you can opt for the “Mexican” one where the chicken is generously slapped with this tangy paste and then allowed to grill in its own sauce.

You can eat it while standing on the roads, looking at the big trees and the bustling traffic and wondering where Life is going to take you next.

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