Stories of impossible bullshits

Pablo Neruda came to ALM hostel in 2007, and comrades in the hostel said ‘come and see the blood in the streets’. I love comrades for I too have seen old cowboy films, magnificently telling stories of impossible bullshits. And I too have decided once to taste alcohol to overcome the impossibilities, to break the chains and to mould myself into a cynic. But in my case not all my decisions will ever get instigated. I love comrades for fighting back every now and then even if they are unaccompanied. I feel that since every immediate moment demands a hopeful jump into an absolute unknown, better make an unaccompanied attempt. Sometimes it takes me a while to understand the surroundings. I am confused whether it is ALM or Tavistock Street or some other place where I have never been before! All I know is that I jumped into an unknown. Unaccompanied comrades of mine laugh at me for my undesirable confession and my unsolicited surrender. They deserve attention; if I fail to identify my immediate surroundings and fail to forget.
Robert came to Tavistock Street in 2009 just before the Christmas week. And that Christmas was full of ‘bivarova’; some polish wine or beer or whatever I don’t remember. For him Christmas was all about finishing bottles! And for that reason I had to make him feel an uninterrupted and unaccompanied Christmas Eve. Christmas time is snowing time always. And when it is snowing I could feel the dew point becoming gentle and going below the freezing point. And I don’t need any physical realities to make it happen. Excuse me once more for being obscure and incomplete. Now dew point is below freezing point and it is snowing here in Gujarat.