Trail of Ants

Peace and quiet. Mr Peace and Mrs Quiet. Shhhh. Mmmmm. Shhhh-ri Lank-arrrr, their natural home. You’ll find them almost everywhere. On the beaches of Hikkaduwa their whispers sound like gently crashing waves resting on the twinkling beach. I looked for them on the bus as I wrestled my backpack into hidden space, I clasped my hands around the handrail and they gifted me a set of white knuckles to hold my attention away from the bully driver beating up the road. They stood with me atop the gaudy Buddha in Dickwella and once again at the edge of Tissa’s dagoba (stupa), one night they left the shores and shared with me a cigarette, beneath the rustling of palm trees while listening all the while to the trill of the local birdlife. Mr Peace, do you take Mrs Quiet to be your lawful wedded wife, in sickness and in health? I do. And you? I do. Continue reading ‘Beyond the Beach’