Skeleton Leaves

softly i tread these desolate forests... careful not to break the tender branches hanging low and vulnerable... treading dust further into its demise.... the soft patter of rain disturbing the patterns of windows in the distance.... ravens gathered at discarded pottery anxious for a taste of the rainwater.... full and heavy it falls..... creating large spots in the red earth... turning the leaves of the eucalyptus tree upwards in search of refreshment... sending seeds and flowers plummeting to their deaths.....a funeral attended by dust and the skeleton leaves.

a bloodshed sunset lights the dying firmament.... peaks of red and orange dispel the remaining shards of blue and grey.... and suddenly peace is restored to the skies canvass.... a canvass endless in its possibilities and scope....

slowly, as the sun descends to its darkened sheets, the moon arises.... full and rested... the clear trauma of its bleakness cuts through the shrewd trees and gnarling bushes.... forcing tiny pockets of light into the darkest corners.... corners where ghosts reside in silence and blanket cold..... forced away from the safety of rest.... unwound into the nakedness of light...

and we dance.... tears free and hearts open... we open our arms and surrender to the imagination of night... to the vast impossibility of slumber..... we wrestle ourselves from the calm and the collected.... we unfold like butterflies into the unbridled utopia of the clouds.... spread wings and smiles glistening we ride.... higher and higher.... tempers controlled and dreams unfolding... we rise on the melting dew and escape in the ether that follows... the deep ether that satisfies and comforts..... the ether that whispers promises it cannot keep, but with such certainty that we follow.. hand in hand... gleeful.... rising slowly.....into the uncertain heights of tomorrow.

11:38 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

The Winter Bride

A soft rain has started to fall, far beyond the wilting trees, so far in fact that it only leaves traces of itself in the winds that blow through. The skies have started to pale. Deep hues of blue and summer are slowly becoming the trained greys that will march through and pave a path for winters dress. She waits at the doors, impatiently, like a bride entering a candle-flooded cathedral. I sit atp the rafters and count the well-wishers, all collected in unison and with stiff smiles.

Winter bears down on us, with a calm grace. Like the achingly beautiful silence as the storm clouds gather deep breaths with which to bend and break the firmest of roots. Those few moments before destruction are perhaps the most perfect moments of life. That inertia. A silence that produces the most violent heartbeats. Chest breaking almost forth of its shackles in the euphoric knowledge/anticipation of what is to come. The deepening fear only surpassed by curiosity.

And she finally enters, with bells clanging loudly from their dizzying perch, we will stand and turn, and cast the flowers of spring and summer and fall at her feet to be crushed. She will pass through, in silence, wrapped in the folds of her season.

The doors will then close. The rusty locks turned once again. The candles will be extinguished and we will be left to sit in the violent darkness and hold each other until first light.

Currently listening : UFO Release date: 2006-11-21

2:36 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Summer

Summer is here and has gone a hundred times only to return for a couple of days like an old band who don't want you to forget they are still around. Did that make sense? I hope so.

My summer has been work, trip to Finland, work... being horribly bored... work... now it seems this is what I have to look forward to:

- Doing a projection project for the band ZHAENG ZHAENG while they open for the Dandy Warhols on the 16th July. Fun.

- Doing a projection project for CLUB OYA at BLA when Noxagt and Arabrot shake the foundations.

- Perhaps a photographic exhibition at the festival KAMERAD & SPELLEMAN in Moi with sufjan stevens, woven hand, serena..etc

- 4 articles for Asian magazines. One a photospread on Taipei with short text, the other 3 some insights into HK and reviews for Asian cinema. Great fun.

- Watch the legends Harmonia perform in September at Betong.

- Hopefully work. A lot.

Save money.. and as the clouds begin to cover more of the sky my sights will be set firmly on Asia from where I draw my comfort and rest....

Oh.. and MTV asked to use one of my photos of WONGS BAR in Bangkok for something... who knows.. but its pretty cool of them.

7:14 AM - 1 Comments - 1 Kudos - Add Comment

Looking Out A Familiar Window

For a seasoned traveller it is a mild irritation that the mode of transport I use more than any should be one that I so abhor. British Airways did nothing to change my opinion of long-haul flights. Firstly leaving 2 hours after announced without any announcements (typical India, people standing for one and a half hour to board and not being told anything other than "few minutes sir"). Finally got on the plane. Cramped seats. Some of the most putrid food I have had on a plane, the whole row I was sitting in stared at their plates wondering what on earth it was we were eating. It seemed to be a deep fried baguette with potato's in the middle. I thought it was a sea cucumber.

Then in a blink I was sitting on the rambling underground heading to Sarah's house in Barons Court. Hugs and hot cups of tea and all was back to normal again. 4 days passed quickly in London catching up with Ann, Aaron, Angela, Deebo and Josmar at Aladdins, pints at the Foundry, late night chat's with Sarah at home, an absolutely blistering concert with Trouble in Camden with Ann and Keith, a horrendously boring show with Blond Redhead the next day, Fish n Chips at Rock & Sole Place (YUM), briefly meeting up with Neil and Karen in South London, and then it was time again for London to be left behind... an insanely early wake up after a very late night and I was sitting on the Gatwick Express listening to my Ipod trying to comprehend the huge change it is to come back from the East to the West. I decided in that train that I must attempt to return as quickly as possible.

The pilot announced that Copenhagen was experiencing a heat wave with temperatures of over 15-20 degrees, blue skies and sunshine. He wasn't lying. I touched down on the runway at Kastrup like so many hundred times before, walked through the gates and was chuffed to see Sarah waiting for me on the other side. We headed into town on the metro and 6 days passed in Copenhagen.......playing disc golf with Mikael at the park, watching Champions League with the boys, hanging out at J & S's house, going to Bloomsday, eating pizza, having a night of nostalgia at Jan Erik's house, walking around town in the sunlight, developing rolls at my Cambodian friends lab, eating Malay curry with Jan, Sarah and Marna, Recording Baba Upanishama silliness on the last night, and the one blow-out night when Sarah and I DJ'd at Copenhagens hipster bar Apparatet.....which turned out to be fantastic after the first hour was wasted with bad sound....lots of friends came and lots of catching up and questions and cheers.....and just as quickly as it began, Copenhagens time was also out...

Another early morning. Brunch with Sarah. Ride to the airport and a flight of only 45 minutes to Oslo. Back here... back here where I don't feel at home but have enough friends to make it a good alternative....where the weather is warming up nicely....life seems the same as when I left....the future is again uncertain.... jobs..housing.. money..future....all in the air... but its a good opportunity.. and I know how much I want to get back out to Asia..and hopefully that will spur me on.

4:53 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

The End

Suddenly the familiar sounds and smells are left behind. What was almost taken for granted for three months is now a memory and will have no immediate continuation. Three months of travel, from north to south and east to west can now only be traced in hotel ledgers and not in my movements. The time for rest had come to an end. I am not sure whether I rested. India is a challenge, not a luxury. India is a country that consumes you as you slowly conquer her. India leaves her traces in your hair, on your skin, under your fingernails. India has left my head feeling empty at the lack of sounds. Everything in the west seems so quiet. So organised. So boring. I will have to adapt to that once again. At least for the duration of a few months, before hopefully fortunes saved are not squandered and can once again give flight to journeys of exploration and reflection. I feel a strange vacuum. Adaptation is something that happens without one's knowledge. Suddenly your maneurisms, behaviour, tolerance, routines are halted and the time comes once again to return to that which is most "normal" to you. The art of surviving in India, of talking to Indians, of managing situations is no longer needed. It is locked away once again to await its return. The western world is now the challenge. The return to work. The return to tax papers. The return to cold weather and depression. The return to friends and family. The return to reunions. The return to cities fled from years before. The return to.......

Oppressive heat is exchanged for bone-chilling cold.
Pollution and poverty exchanged for pollution and poverty
Joy and freedom exchanged for silence and duty
Cooling fans exchanged for cold floors

I cannot say that I felt at home when I landed at Heathrow yesterday morning. Though England, the country of my birth, has been such an instrumental part of my growing up I still have a marked distance towards it. This is not a negative attitude. This is simply an awareness that I am not intrinsically British. Though I may have exposed some of her traits. I do not subscribe to the British mentality. I am a complicated mixture of many things.

There are things that I adore about Britain. About the British. I just cannot fully accept and identify myself with them. I always feel like I am seen as a stranger, tourist, exchange student. I am never and will never be one of "them". In their eyes, and my own.

I feel the same way about Norway.

I feel the same way about India. Finland.

Leaving India always evokes emotions in me. I am connected to that nation on an emotional level more than any European country. But I have no idea what that really means. Or why. I have an affinity with it, but also a grace period. It is a country of contrasts but perhaps thats what makes it so "whole". Its complete lack of foundation makes it the firmest place to stand, if only for a short time at least. India is therapy. It is a tonic. It is an escape from the mundane. However prolonged stints tend to leave you exhausted at the sheer amount of impressions and noises that you are left to deal with under and sometimes merciless sun. The eternal bureaucracy and incessant delays also test the patience you tried so hard to temper. It is an oxymoron. It is an impossibility. It is a mirage.

Leaving Delhi did good for my soul. Apart from some choice restaurants, beautiful temples and a few noteworthy tourist sites Delhi is an utter nightmare. Choked roads. Constant hassle. Murderous temperatures. Edgy people. The bloated newly rich. It is a graveyard. If it hadn't been for some dear friends and some memorable nights out the times there would be swept under the rug to be forgotten as soon as possible.

Mumbai arrived like a soothing embrace. Ordering feasts to be delivered home while the gang sat and choked on their cigarettes and downed beers. The constant buzz of the city. Inept and overwhelmed yet vibrant and proud. A city drowning in its sheer size, yet capable of retaining the charm of a village in shaded corners and holy pools. Endless choices. Food capable of flooring the most ardent snob. Old victorian buildings shielded by mighty banyan trees and scattered shrines. The sea breeze.

My last night ended up being a fitting farewell. An indian farewell. Luscious food at Soul Fry. A couple of drinks. Riding to the airport while Viraaj blasted The Bends from the stereo. Bandra passing by with all its stains and shines. Farewells. Check-in. Delays. La Vie de Boheme. Cramped economy seats. Horrific in-flight cuisine. A couple of red wine's. Sleeeeeep.

And suddenly my three months seemed like a ghost. Time passed is as intangible as it is invisible. Only those with a strong memory can every truly claim to have lived. The others have to rely on guesses and chance.

Europe. The next challenge. The next reward.

3:16 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment