While the world deteriorates under forced employment and general casualness towards life, I spend another day caved at my home, loitering about, and delving into the forced motion of Timoshenko beams. It was curiosity that drove me to another untiring day - "what if the 12th of march of 2013 were a cold-blooded day". The warm blooded occupant of my home for the day (i.e. me) piled up hasty and unhealthy calories, of an assortment of foodstuff. Not much fretting about the bike that wasn't sounding the way it should, or the unfulfilled checklists, or the tent conundrum; no, these were relegated - part of an evolutionary-stable strategy - into the "tomorrow", a concept which works very well with the intention being of being a dick.
The only thing I focused on was translating my perception of Gulmarg - where I spent a coupla weeks - as a paradise, through the aid of Vegas, and to the words of Mr. Coldplay.
The only thing I focused on was translating my perception of Gulmarg - where I spent a coupla weeks - as a paradise, through the aid of Vegas, and to the words of Mr. Coldplay.
Paradise - Gulmarg from uhbiv on Vimeo.
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