darjeeling’s fog, my frayed denim, and 27° of existential dread

when i first rolled into darjeeling, i didn’t realize how fast time could sneeze at you. the bus from kalimpong dropped me off at this crumbling hostel at 3 a.m., which felt… democratic. maybe too much for a grad student whose backpack is half-crumpled and water bottle has given up on being convincing. temperature? check. it’s 27.15, which is 27.15 like… why is it stuck on that exact number? maybe that’s a sign.

last night, i checked the weather and it’s clinging to 27.15°C right now, hoping you like that kind of thing. the thing with it is, the feels_like? 26.78. close enough to real, i guess. just don’t tell the locals-they’ll correct you, probably with a clove of garlic and a story about a monsoon essence.

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