If I had a universal visa (universe here refers to the earth. Earthlings do think they are it, you see), I would take you to the Poles bay or lock us up in a room like we have done several times. The invisible fumes from your hair instill a renewed energy in me. The curves of your thighs leading up to your soft contours of your arse...and the way you move so gracefully all over and inside me. The occasional rugged pushes quench me in a way that did not exist before. All I am is a string of pearl beads.

With green paddy fields full of experience in my innumerable handbags, I have come to realise one thing (for sure, yes). My goodbyes are always heart felt. They are teary, bitter, painful. I hate 'em but I get them done. And when I am done, I never look back. I really never do. I look ahead. And I cannot wait.

Awesomely awful day.

Buh bye Paris. Buh bye Bangalore. Soon.

Across the ocean of doubt and reason
and salty water
Exists a world of hope and reason
and alcohol
Across the ocean of doubt and reason
and memories
Exists a world of romance and reason
and dreams
Across the ocean of doubt and reason
and squabbles
Exists a world of challenges and reason
and lack of reason
Across the ocean of doubt and reason
and puzzles
Exists a world of hope, romance, challenges and dreams. And lack of reason.

The point has been put across.
I am the point.
I need to get across.
The ocean of doubt and reason.
That is where I belong.

My studio has been hit by a tornado. Its time to put a huge pile of clothes into trash bags. Give it away to charity. Some of them. Others into the trash can. Or something.

My mind has been hit by a tornado. Its time to put a huge pile of garbage into trash bags. Burn it in some unknown place. I am not a big fan of burying.

The whole packing and shifting ritual sucks donkey balls. I wish I had company. With conversation and laughter. And cold beers. Belgian. Instead I have music and cold beer. Belgian.

I am alone. Convoluted. With stories and incidents from yesterday. Literally. And from years ago.

"Moving on is acknowledging what went by. "

Sometimes, I really am awesome.

A palette. You.

Gold, floral white, pink, beige, blood red, black...and the distinct colour of salmon. You. 

My finger in the thumb hole

And the sweet juice of life springs from you