we anticipate Desire
and dismiss it.
We cling to dreams
but give in and taste Desperation.
We decide that desire is desolate.
Dreaming is not.

And go back to waiting.
And fall asleep.

We awaken.
And see that it's not even a dream we wait for.

It's destiny.
(all turns to dust)


(Oh and there's so much love to give. there's so much love to give. there's so much love to give)

First photograph a part of a project where I used my body as a canvas.
second illustration for ING vysya foundation.

your eyes have their silence

I've always been afraid
of bringing things I create with my hands
into a digital world. I was afraid that maybe somewhere between the
blinking screen and the ink on my fingers
something would be lost. like the silver key you kept in your coat pocket.

blue lines that only some light can percieve.
I've decided to trust electrons zipping through invisible space
with my soul stretched out in inks

And scan pages off my notebook. for a million mirrors to see.
and open me.

"we can create kingdoms of our own
grand purple thrones
those chairs of lust
and love we must
on beds of rust"

Oranges and Tea- Cherrapunji

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.

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

There's a Hole in my Bucket

" And the rain fell down
On the cold grey town
And the phone kept ringing
And we made sweet love

Everybody's dreaming
Everybody's scheming
Until the rain fall down"
The Rolling Stones