When we got there the sun was setting and all was a dull orange with its juices dried up and spilling onto the sky. The sky's a fancy purple shop where clouds can now buy wings.
Everything is coloured like oranges and tea.
There was sky. there were clouds. and all of us were swimming in this strange little town.
the wettest place on earth.
We were in the clouds. IN the clouds. Walking down the winding streets of this village proved to be difficult because We couldn't see what was two feet ahead of us.
Through the mist children would emerge. Smiling with little red umbrellas in their hands. They wave and giggle as I take their pictures and give them bracelets from my arms as gifts. By the end of the walk I had given away all my coloured glass beads from my wrists to them. Rainbow wrists no more.
They lived in little houses with small square gardens filled with flowerpots and ponds (with frogs in the ponds one small girl told me in broken hindi).I want children I realized.Hah. I want to live in a small bluewoodenhouse in the hills with many little children with a pond in the garden with frogs in it where everything is wet and one walks out of the door and onto a cloud. Or by the sea in a sandcastle with a little girl with flowing hair and I'll collect shells with her all day long and make more sandcastles only so they can be destroyed again by the crashing waves.
Beh. In my artclass there's this little girl who I show glitter to and tell her I've scraped it off a rainbow and she believes it. and she sits on my lap in everyclass and cries on my shoulder if her painting isn't the way she wanted it to be as I stroke her hair and tell her its beautiful.
I think I should keep her.
I want too much. too fast I think.
Everything is coloured like oranges and tea.
There was sky. there were clouds. and all of us were swimming in this strange little town.
the wettest place on earth.
We were in the clouds. IN the clouds. Walking down the winding streets of this village proved to be difficult because We couldn't see what was two feet ahead of us. Through the mist children would emerge. Smiling with little red umbrellas in their hands. They wave and giggle as I take their pictures and give them bracelets from my arms as gifts. By the end of the walk I had given away all my coloured glass beads from my wrists to them. Rainbow wrists no more.
They lived in little houses with small square gardens filled with flowerpots and ponds (with frogs in the ponds one small girl told me in broken hindi).I want children I realized.Hah. I want to live in a small bluewoodenhouse in the hills with many little children with a pond in the garden with frogs in it where everything is wet and one walks out of the door and onto a cloud. Or by the sea in a sandcastle with a little girl with flowing hair and I'll collect shells with her all day long and make more sandcastles only so they can be destroyed again by the crashing waves. Beh. In my artclass there's this little girl who I show glitter to and tell her I've scraped it off a rainbow and she believes it. and she sits on my lap in everyclass and cries on my shoulder if her painting isn't the way she wanted it to be as I stroke her hair and tell her its beautiful.
I think I should keep her.
I want too much. too fast I think.
Back from dreamsequence to Cherapunji. I bought a red raincoat at a small ramshackle shop.Its plastic and its translucent and its wonderful.
like the one I owned when I was young.
By the truckload 'they' cautioned us along the way to remember poor Hansel and Gretel Who got lost in the woods and other feelings we could wear no more: miniature labyrinths we could no longer find our way back into. I shoulder my disguise and try to capture the rain in the palm of my hand.
May 2007
'wind in
and the smell of your hair
i hit as hard as i can
with my nose
jumping into a puddle
wearing no boots
completely soaked (dripping wet)
wearing no boots'
sigur ros,Hoppípolla
like the one I owned when I was young.
By the truckload 'they' cautioned us along the way to remember poor Hansel and Gretel Who got lost in the woods and other feelings we could wear no more: miniature labyrinths we could no longer find our way back into. I shoulder my disguise and try to capture the rain in the palm of my hand.
May 2007
'wind inand the smell of your hair
i hit as hard as i can
with my nose
jumping into a puddle
wearing no boots
completely soaked (dripping wet)
wearing no boots'
sigur ros,Hoppípolla
13 comments:
Lovely post. Brought out so much emotion from the author and reader. :)
inspirational..
children..umm...i want too!! :P
The first human face to knock you back 50%. :) Fancy a cuppa?
Dont you think the song Agaetis Byrjun is a piece of gold?
yus sir. though my favourites on that album are englar and ny batteri :)
sigur ros. *sigh*
my comp is deleting my comment on its own.. wierd. Let me try again..
Fishes once fell from the sky. They gave up their wings for the world bellow and miss raindrops when the sea is so still that it becomes sky. Childrens only know. They collect raindrops in their palms and think of clouds and fishes. They turn water into oranges as the sun goes down. Mothers bellies are oranges too, waiting for more children to come.
thats beautiful :)
Thanks for such a excellent post. I see the images and it's very attractive. I have read the post and it's very useful to me.
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