I wander through the bylanes of the old city
Vague misty memories spring up like tea stalls
in narrow streets
The smell of pre-loved books piled up
A wonderland to lose your way in the prints of yellowed pages
The sound of youth, unburdened chatter
Enough nostalgia to drown in for a weary soul
Till the taste of cigarette-smoke-wrapped tea
Jolts my sleep-deprived mind awake.
….
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