I started my week thinking: if I didnt think too much about it, perhaps the week would suddenly skip a Thursday.

I finished Gaiman's very magical Stardust. And then was as awestruck as I dvded-it. I obsessively youtube-d clips on the execution of Anne Boleyn. I caught China's Gymnastics Women's Team deservingly receiving the Gold. At the same time developing a womancrush on Alicia Sacramone.

I conveniently gave up on Marquez's Love in the Time of Cholera.

I went about doing my daily mundane stuff like being thankful that NO ONE wants to employ me (yet). And washing and ironing and folding and tutoring and chaffeuring and conditioning my hair and completely avoiding the treadmill as a form of silent retaliation of somewhats.

I got my hands on yet another Coelho & has since vowed to myself to read every single of his. JUST to see what this whole hoohaa is about.

I thought about you every single moment. I met you at every given chance. Monday's Spaghetti Too. Tuesday's Thosai. Best. And we both agreed that my fats are better than bulging muscles on a woman weightlifter.

I was on the phone with you whenever time permits on top of our long calls til early hours in the morning. I did everything I could to have a bit more of you. Heck, I even argued with you at the final seconds of Wednesday. LIKE you wouldn't believe it.