Quite suddenly I have too much time on hands. Two French films, one Indian mantra in my head and 17 pacing up-and-down the corridor to my bedroom later, I am famished for a G & T. I have an old man's need for an old man's drink. Lime they say! God forbid NOT lemon! should accompany the snobbish drink of gentlemen. The citrusy greenness from the tropics is the perfect suitor to the handsome perfume of juniper. A perfect marriage of east and west!
Why am I writing in a language foreign to my roots, singing in the tongue of an adopted culture and thinking in a voice incomprehensible to my ancestors? What blood runs in these veins, what soul hides behind these eyes?
Kill the lights they hurt my eyes! No! turn them all on they feed my sight! I see red Chinese laterns in the midst.
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1 comment:
oh just wonderful prose:)
I was just thinking about you - and listening to this
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wk4lCXt7JKo
Its nostalgic and has the power only music has to move.
What you write is a kind of nostalgia for loss, of something, somewhere, someone.
When I feel the same things of which you write, the deep yurning soul not quite in focus, hurting and burning, I feel alive.
Tough being a romantic, init ? :)
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