Almost

Oh God.
Happiness is also relative.

I noticed the moonlight emanating from a less-than-even-half moon for the first time in my life. Why is it that everything looks so ghostly-alien-haunted and beautiful near the Ghazi Barotha part of the drive to Peshawar bathed in man-made white and moonlight?
And I can finally see what it is about meat that fascinates Pathans. Funny that it should happen in a sleep-deprived moment at a bustling road-side Army Cantt. restaurant in the NWFP.

Happiness is washing tired feet with cold water.

Puppho just might be dying and all I can think about is Papa.