They said he was mad. But I knew him before his eyes changed and that permanent sheen of sweat covered his face. A hopeless romantic with his head wrapped in a cloud of words, there were times I believed he was made of words. They flew out of him as he moved and he left a silver trail of words ...
On a gloomy winter morning my little girl said impatiently “Can you please switch on the sun???” And I thought of home. Where the sun switches itself on just fine. Filed under: Uncategorized
While hunting for a new house, I realize that in the last 3 years I’ve lived in 5 houses in two countries. My own place, my parents’ place, a friend’s place and two addresses since I moved here. 12 is the grand total though, of the houses I’ve lived in, spanning across multiple continents. But funnily enough all I ever ...
I’ve been living away from home for a little over a year and it is with some amusement I note that it has indeed been a time without friends. There are things nobody ever tells you about migration in spite of the truckloads of advice you receive about everything from where to buy Sri Lankan spices to which car insurance ...
My father said. “I’ve seen this happen to other people, so my only advice to you is dont get lost between two countries. Pick one, it doesn’t matter which one and be happy with your choice” Wise man. Stupid daughter. Filed under: Uncategorized
For Saturday mornings, when the only pressing dilemma is where to buy buth packets for lunch from. For Saturday afternoons of cold showers in the shade of a rambutan tree. For Saturday nights when all the friends that you’d ever need are all in one room.Filed under: Uncategorized
So WordPress tells me I’ve been blogging for 7 years. Although the last two years don’t really count for much. Makes me almost miss writing. But do people in SL still write on blogs and read? Or is blogging like so 2008?Filed under: Uncategorized
I’ve strayed so far from myself, I had almost forgotten things. Of all the pleasures I have started to rediscover, poetry is the one closest to my skin. Indian Summer – Eileen Carney Hulme Like a deep blue wave of passion you shore into the room where I sit waiting quietly, open-booked. We have moved through days, loss, pain ...
Another year over and how much has changed. And yet here I am thinking about the things that stayed the same. Things I’m not yet ready to change.Filed under: Uncategorized
Another year over and how much has changed. And yet here I am thinking about the things that stayed the same. Things I’m not yet ready to change.Filed under: Uncategorized
