Monday, November 23, 2009
Music. Oil paints. Shantaram. Dev Anand. Oil pastels. Handmade paper. Silk. Chappals. Glass paint. Smell of turpentine. God of small things. Research. Conversations. Love. Lots of it. Hugs too. And imagined kisses. A presentation. Family. A single tie. Impatience. Loneliness. Sighs. Interruptions. Love again. Salads. Broken nails. Paints. And paint brushes too. Of writing. And reading. Loving reading. Then hating it again. Same difference. A virtual farm. Cows and turkeys. Of pink satin pillow cases and a bunch of 12 red roses. Being there. Being not there. Ignore. And being ignored. Painted walls. Wilting money plants. Music. Bollywood. Anthony Gonzalves. Arundhathi Roy. Aditi and arundhati. Babies with dimpled cheeks and big black eyes. Living together. Living on phones. Living off suitcases. Still living. Music. Oil paints. Shantaram. Studies. Or what mocks it. Long drive cravings. Dreams. Lots of it. The good and the bad. Flowers. Photographs. Ankle socks and frosty toes. Coffee. Masala tea. Coffee. Coffee. Coffee. Coffee. Paints. Paper. Pen. Music. Songs. Love. Mirrors. Satin and silk. Love. Conversations. Coyness. Anger. Laughter. Tears. Whines. Living life. In bits.