At times, I feel as if each time a little piece of me is dying when I see you.
There were a flurry of girls in MI.

It was quite the experience this time, I would not have made it unless for the encouragement of my mother (birth).

She danced, had a few conversations, and my little sister had some profound conversation emitting from the One.

Dheepu left early for a wedding.
He missed a considerable amount.
Devi Bhava went to oh about 9:30-10:00am
maybe around 1300~ folks.
I rushed at the end to speak to her again.
And said I will see your ponmukham( darling face) next year.
She asked if I would see chettan
( i had mentioned some things).

They are embroidered across my heart in blood.
Those moments that is.
The only wealth I possess.

18-Year-Old Sylvia Plath on Loving Everybody and Living with Curiosity

I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me. My love’s not impersonal yet not wholly subjective either. I would like to be everyone, a cripple, a dying man, a whore, and then come back to write about my thoughts, my emotions, as that person.* But I am not omniscient. I have to live my life, and it is the only one I’ll ever have. And you cannot regard your own life with objective curiosity all the time…

http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2012/06/18/sylvia-plath-journal/