Happy Birthday! So you're twenty four today. I'm so glad we're together and happy. I know, this year you will move on and must leave me behind. But try, try to take bits of me along with you. The happier, nicer, pleasanter bits.
~from your cynical and sad (but lovable, nonetheless) twenty-three-years-old self
This is what I meant to write on the book (Slowness by Milan Kundera) I gave myself for my birthday. But I meant to write it with an ink pen. And not having enough money to buy a good one, i just let the first page remain blank (no, no 'Madhura Chakraborty, Kolkata, 2009' either). Today i finished the book. So before i forget, I'm putting these words down.
Other goodies for birthday:
a delicious wine coloured Fab affair from Pramita
my favourite kind of chocolate from Dibbo :)