Vincent Millay seemed to be rather preoccupied with death and disease, but she wrote beautifully. Barbra loved the poem. It wasn’t quite what she fe...t, but it came near. The presence of Mike in the house, in everything around her, his ghost on her shoulder… The constant reminders were hard to take, so hard that she sometimes wondered if it was all worth it. Though she never noticed, she became a recluse, withdrawn into herself, shunning human contact. She grew thin, a grey-faced shadow of her. Main nahane chali gayi air fir hame khane ke liye neeche coffee shop me jana tha, maine ek night top pahna air shorts jo ghutno tak tha aur neeche aa gayi,meri naheen aslam ko dhundh rahi thi tabhi wo kewal ek baniyan aur shorts me aya, uska seena ekdum pathrila baju faulad lag rahe the. Hamne apna apna khana liya aur baith gaye to wo bola ki maine non veg nahi liya to main boli main nahi kahti.To usne apni plate utha li aur jaane laga mujhe pata nahi kya laga air maine uska hath pakad ke roka. More

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