chimes of a forgotten melody

Yesterday night before closing my diary, my grandmother called out to me asking to help her lift a canister of water. It would have been just 1 or 2 kilograms, but the calcium deficiency in her bones made the task for her seemingly preposterous. The night before, she complained that the channels were all mixed up after the satellite dish was installed, 'What was the need of all this filth? Just to sell us these useless umbrellas!' Yeah, we all hated it in the beginning, we all dejected the transformation. 'So when are you going to convert from analog to digital?' they kept asking every time you turned on the TV. And it was becoming a very strange nuisance. 'Call the cable operator, Anand. Call him and ask them to fix this!', my grandfather used to say every single time those deplorable TV actresses would come up and campaign for the digital world. 'But we fixed it already', I'd keep saying but it never did sink in, even for a little whi...

I do not know why I fell in love with him, maybe it was because like all loves, ours were blind, perfect and with no critical intelligence. *** 'Albin, you should participate. It has been 10 or 11 times you've been here and every single time it was only me who was speaking. Say something today.' All I could hear were faint murmurs from times begone. I had a lot to say, perhaps even more he could perceive or begin to understand. And yet I used to watch him, like everyone he was human and his features; the way he drifts his lower jaw to stress his point and the general sarcasm to perceive himself being well off and in a position to advice, dominated him throughout. 'Albin, you see, we all have problems, everyone of us hold a lifetime of emotions underneath. But we all decided to smile, ain't that what you should do?' Ah, fuck off, Albin is dead, what you see is an image of him, perhaps your own reflection! *** Before Albin, the person I...