What really ends?

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 Woke up around 5:30 am to see this. A little soothing, a little sorrowful slice of a moon. It's the time of the year when Bombayites and Mumbaikars (they seem to be distinct categories of people) keep watching the sky hoping for grey. The lush, dense, thick, happy, plump grey of the rain clouds. 

Today there wasn't a rain cloud.

There also wasn't the usual suspect, the sun.

There was the moon from the night before.

Not knowing it's time to leave.

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