Little somethings

Holed up in a room that reverberates with the sounds of flowing gutters, potholed roads, traffic woes, political gimmicks and squabbles, grouses, malice and much more (like they say whatever is negative forms news), one often longs for a whiff of fresh air.
So on most days I struggle to spend time at the window that overlooks the scenic Sinhagad, quaint old houses and the blood red gulmoher. Standing at the window, my belief that small things in life matter, only so much gets strengthened.