So I have been thinking for a while about the way I listen to music.

Of late, I have started scrolling through my music listening device. Yes, it is an ipod. However, this isn't some apple worshipping, pro-consumerism journal entry; brandishing ownership of an ipod, looking smug with every soft, silent click it makes. In fact, my ipod is second hand and slightly broken and I refuse to get it fixed. So perhaps that makes it anti-consumerist and Marxist enough. Or maybe it just makes it a bit neglected and over-used. A bit like a Pakistani housewife.

Over-used it is,…

The first, and to date, last entry I wrote here was written at the height of winter, with snow all around me and piles of essays. The writing came easy, and was a welcoming break from coming up with sustainable polices for Angola. Its different this time, summer is drawing to a close and the bringing out of knitwear is a tell-tale sign. Not to mention the soft, almost secretive falling of leaves I keep noticing on my daily runs. and yes, just like a child, I gleefully step on a furled brown leaf hoping for that unmistakeable crunch. Alas,…

The day draws to a close and I am walking towards my platform at the train station. Fast paced commuters dash past me while tourists nonchalantly stroll by. Amidst this tumult I hear the soft rhythmic chords of the train station busker's guitar. Not just any chords but the gentle yet unmissable chords to fade to black. Inevitably, my heart skips a beat and I feel shivers down my spine. Just a few seconds into the song and the soft plucking of the (acoustic guitar) makes me want to stand still and listen till the end.

Its not just…