The Mill

Was running the other day, perhaps I walked and ran for hours and hours, I think 4 hours altogether I bet, but anyway, so was running from myself and anything after all. And by the calm and soothing river Exe saw the ruins of an old mill from the 17th century which spoke to me abstract but captive tales of bygone days. It seems times of india was printed here during colonial times.
And I stood there thinking about my sister who gifted me rather made me read The mill on the floss by George Eliot, Maggie the woman who was a mystery then, the complicated presence of the Dorlcote Mill in their lives and above all I thought about me and Vava and how happy we were as children exploring Aches library, playing in the woods, running around in the meadows, swimming in the river and what not. How much we had shared happiness and how much she means to me to keep me going!
This is to my Maggie, my Vava kutty, my soul mate 🙂 My sister of my heart, my first toy, my first doll!

Published by Sapience

A mere weeping dot in the universe.

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