Trail of Ants

A lingering cold. Perceptions. An Irish pair. Gore-tex. An English doublet. Love. Salmon Rushdie. An endless line. One Australian. Two Australians. A city in protest. A solo Swede. The Himalaya. The afterlife. A pondering sadhu. Shooting stars. A rickshaw ride. Vegetable moussaka. Expectations. An averted disaster. Central Asia. Spirited Away. Nepali Sherpas. A blazing sun. A brace of Kiwis. A pencil sharpener. Toothpaste tubes. Telex forms. Free Tibet. Conformity. Hot lemon. A lone Canadian. Yak wool. Israel. Down sleeping bags. Country capitals. Ambitions. Candlelight. An American duet. Banana lassi. Please. Take a breath. If the ingredients that made up our lives were a simple family of words filed neatly between a peppering of punctuation, then our lives would surely make no sense at all. Though the words maniacally cascading through to the foothills of these, my opening lines, carry with them the weekly silt of my Being’s physical exposure, from the citadel of it’s very existence. Continue reading ‘A Spring of Surprise’