It struck me that I've been here since 1st Feb, ten days of idling through art shows interspersed with shopping (yes, I fell under the spell of a magic carpet,) trips in silent boats on the backwaters - full of reflection - Sunday in the Park (with Georges?) and afternoons at the beach; a few old churches, a Kathakali performance, and just watching the nets rise from the water, the little fish panic, a crow snatch some easy pickings. There have been some challenging meals...for here Fried Fish does not come disguised as a fillet.
It is tropically hot and humid. Just 9 degrees north of The Equator. And I have neglected everything. The blog has gone unwritten, emails scantily answered, congenial folk from Canada and Pondicherry have entered and exited. Time has passed. And Yet I have a sense that Time, the Old Trickster, is accelerating.
Time, soon, to take stock. But not quite yet...
It is tropically hot and humid. Just 9 degrees north of The Equator. And I have neglected everything. The blog has gone unwritten, emails scantily answered, congenial folk from Canada and Pondicherry have entered and exited. Time has passed. And Yet I have a sense that Time, the Old Trickster, is accelerating.
Time, soon, to take stock. But not quite yet...
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