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My internet browser is full of pages starred and bookmarked for later viewing and things that I save because they inspire me or blow my mind.

I have never bought bookmarks for myself (although I have gifted them) because I genuinely do not see them point. I use them all the time, I reuse them and more often then not, I lose them. I’m the kind who grabs anything in the vicinity to use as bookmark. Here are some I found recently, during Diwali cleaning:

Old bills fashioned to serve as bookmarks for some of my favourite strips in my Calvin and Hobbes set. I don’t remember what I even bought and what the bills or for but, hey, they served their purpose.

An old worn out crossword bookmark I used while reading Haruki Murakami’s Kafka on the shore. If I line appealed to me greatly, I jotted down the page numbers on the bookmark. I can barely figure out why anymore. I’ve read those pages again and can guess which line I might have loved but I can’t really be sure.

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A strip of paper I tore from some magazine and signed twice for some strange reason was used to read Rabindranath Tagore’s short stories.

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A strange piece of paper I found still stuck inside my copy of Joseph Heller’s Catch 22. It was all bent out of shape and dusty when I took it out because I never did finish this book. (But then again, I do remember lending it to a friend, so it’s entirely possible that this bookmark is his.)

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If I remember correctly, I read Jonathan Franzen’s Freedom so greedily and eagerly I possibly couldn’t have required a bookmark at all. But I did find this business card (of a hair dresser) in the last page. The timing is lost to me, but maybe I read it after my ‘I don’t care about feminity, I’m going to cut my hair real short and be free” haircut. Maybe.

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What I’m reading right now and that boring flipkart bookmark I’m using.

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