A writer on re-entering the captivating world of books
Some years ago, I travelled from Paris to Rennes on a train. I was overcome with the tedium of having spent several idle hours at the Gare Montparnasse station, waiting for the train to arrive. The journey from New Delhi to Paris had made me weary. Later, as the train raced past the French countryside, I looked outside to kill time. Out of sheer anxiety, I started toying with my cigarette pack and yearned for the nourishment of cigarette smoke. To kill boredom, I took out a document I had prepared for my business meetings and tried to leaf through it. Its prosaicness made me sleepy. Mundane thoughts crisscrossed my mind.
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