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Bombay rains provided a perfect preface to today’s chapter. As usual, I woke up late just to enjoy those few minutes between dreaming and awakening. Sometimes I do wonder what happens to all the thoughts and dreams I have so elaborately crafted out of my subconscious. Such a waste. Anyways, I hopped on to the flight and resumed my novel “Solo”. The melancholy the novel exemplifies is poetic yet dreadful at times. It makes me wonder, just like the character in the novel Ulrich, how would I shape my memories through time? In an age of glorified self promotion and constant beams of information uploads and downloads, will memories remain etched forever or will they remain elusive? I don’t know but what would Dali think about the same?