I read Malancha , by Rabindranath Tagore.
I don't know why, I am disappointed and sad. (Am I allowed to say that about Tagore?)
I am sad about what the novel represents too, human emotions are not always tangible. Has anyone ever really understood love? Does that thing really exist? Or is it just an illusion?
I don't know why, I am disappointed and sad. (Am I allowed to say that about Tagore?)
I am sad about what the novel represents too, human emotions are not always tangible. Has anyone ever really understood love? Does that thing really exist? Or is it just an illusion?
