The late evening drive around a lonely stretch has nothing to do with any of the events during the day, though often, my random thoughts play havoc and create something totally uncalled for. In 2009, my suicidal streak forced me to read a book called "Stop worrying and start living". And since the 1st of January, 2010, I have neither looked back nor worried a tuppance. What's the use anyway? Everyday seems like magic for me now; every little thing is a beauty to behold, to enjoy. Forgiving and then to move on has been the mantra to my new life. Every micro second of life is RED; I just can't miss it for something as miniscule as 'worry'!
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