There was once a humorous story teaching the Indians about the stock market. It was a story of a man from the city going to some alienated village and telling the farmers that he wants to buy monkeys for Rs. 10 each. People started grabbing monkeys all over their village and sold it to the merchant. Later, the merchant says this is not enough and is now willing to pay Rs. 15 per monkey.

It is the first time to be put inside a mental asylum. With all logical hope of explaining squandered to mere simpletons in proving the case, there is nothing left but to stare at these walls.

These walls, staring back with their padding. Always being watched, even when isolated, with its false sense of security sarcastically surrounding as if it is a bubble from reality, protecting the occupant from the outside world, or is it the other way? 

"Ever been put in that scenario where you stare at the mirror and imagine a horrifying figure behind you while you brush your teeth? This scenario of the person looking at you just as soon as you spit the toothpaste and look back up the mirror, the image floats for 2 seconds and goes away. 

You imagine this just after you have watched a movie with a similar situation. If this image happens frequently enough, the next image you see in the mirror might either actually be real, because you channeled it, or you have thought about it so frequently it actually blurred the line between imagination and reality."
 

What is in the very core of your soul? Staggering around the room, scared and suspicious, you get to the peephole on your door.

Your door has 4 locks, you hold on the knob not to open the door, but to support you as you stare through the peephole. And on the peephole, you see through the hallway of your floor.

There will be a small group of people in the world who live through a lifestyle I am in. It is, in a way, being an international citizen or not being a citizen of anywhere at all. I was born in the Philippines, with Sindhi parents, mom was born and raised in Singapore, dad was born and raised in India. Our grandparents in both sides of the family came from Pakistan. 

And, as some sources would also state, some of my great grandparents might have come from Afghanistan, who have come from Persia, some centuries ago. My family bloodline never did have a place of their own, and after a certain amount of time, did wander off to another place for a better life. 

"Just one right turn 2 blocks after, see the little laundry shop, make a left, and three stores after, there's where it is", reply of a slightly confused, middle aged convenience store owner inside the Gas station. Wherever this guy is going, driving for 6 hours does not seem to make any sense for his destination. None whatsoever.