I said turn around. But she didn’t. She took my hand and placed it on front side of her shoulder. We were close to each other. I started to write on...her shirt. Now my mind was not really on what I am writing but largely on that I really have to make it long ;)My palm started touching her breasts over the shirt and the strap of her bra was coming in between my writing space. I knew it’s a good moment. I said “Kuch ad raha hai beech me” She smiled and somehow managed to slide the strap down her. " Well it is weird!" Another voice chimed. The woman looked, bemused, to the other side of the circular, matriculate room they occupied. It was them and a handful of other people, all adorned in similarly unworldly attire, and in various states of leisure, with the same spiral-garnished pupils and defying presence. There seemed to be no roof -- it just went on and on, a series of spiral staircases and concentric rows of shelves of who knew what extending to a limitless sky. "Just look -- for. More

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