This morning the sun rose upon the three waters. Expectation, a woven memory of solitude and calm, I walked through the remnants of the place I’d known, towards the ghats. Stumbling through the first stirrings of stallkeepers around the market, only half aware of them as past and present become a fluid thing; a plasma mixing and merging the senses until there was no difference to be felt. Unless it be on the periphery.
Down to the harbour, through the bleary halflight of the alleys. Down to the harbour, through the temple. Fifteen years ago I made the same journey: another self, drifting uncharted between the tidepools of some hippy dream. Continue reading “Kanyakumari”
Driven by the guiding moon
Spring and Neap tides
furrow their season Continue reading “red”