Freaky freaky freaky

Fifty minutes of a freakish roller coaster adventure. Pacific. Tonga. A missing laptop. Old colleagues. New colleagues. In the mind. Family. The only one. Emotions. Irritation. Dread. Chase. Men. Mobs. Cobbled walkways which existed. And those which did not. Huts. Closed doorways. Asking assistance. Dreading discovery. Photographs. The hyperactive mind. Not quite asleep. The hyperactive mind. Wide awake typing away.

Deja Vu. Almost.

Papers. Pacific. Fiji. Subordinates. Insubordination. Struggle. Not, Walking away. Does that count? Repeat conversations. And avoiding repeat conversations. Whats another word for avoiding unpleasant encounters. Hope - less? Or hope - full? Stupidity? Foolishness? And yet.

Yes. And yet.

For Eeeenglish Pleez Plezz Nine

Seen on the website of an apartment house in Bangkok, Thailand:

-The number of people who can live in each room are not over 3 persons.

-Do not bring the illegal thing, every kind of animal, inflammable thing and fuel into the building.

-Do not play gambling and prohibit the outsider to congregate within the room.

-This building is for resident only. The hirer cannot make other business.

And

-Do not change and destroy the permanent attached thing with inspiring strength.

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Love Letter - the handicraft shop in Yangon, Myanmar, lives up to its name with the following lovely words:

Welcome to Myanmar

We assort a handicraft in Myanmar and are waiting for everybody's crossing.

We sell the item of the owner careful selection such as the shell work, the shellfish picture, the rattan, the sandal, the pearl, the woodcraft.

Your Myanmar is surely found out.

Hmm..your guess dear reader, is as good as mine :)

Sounds

Running a finger over the metal tubes of a windchime on a misty afternoon. The anticipation of the touch. Ears buzzing with the soft sound which plays. Much before it acually does.

Simple pleasures of materialism.

A daze and a doze on a winter afternoon

On the verge of dozing off in the warm sunshine on a winter afternoon amidst the flowers, the trees and the green green grass. A recurring cacophany of sounds from the main road prevents deep sleep in the lawn. Just as well. Still have the energy to open one eye slightly, each time an interesting sound catches the attention. A moment ago it was the ghungroos tied around the legs of a running camel. The perfect blend of tiny metal balls striking against the little brass buds. The eager pace of the camel showing off happily. If it had a voice, I can almost imagine it hum a tune as it runs.

A bus braked with a very jarring screech and we all looked at each other and almost laughed at the ugly sound. How would the poor camel brake I wondered, just before closing the eyes again. Our own Ghunghroo meantime is hiding from the sun. Maybe thanking his stars for the neem tree which hides the rays of the setting sun. The poor tree. So large and dense with its own particular brand of dark green. Shrugs its pod laden shoulders gently in the breeze - 'can't please everyone', it thinks, as it turns some of the leaves to savour the sun. And we all doze off once again. Us, the flowers, the trees and the green green grass. On this winter afternoon.

Picture stories

eyes

watching

stories; in the mind

a house

a bungalow

trees
shade
stairs
and
balustrades

drying
wet hair
with
sunshine on the face
on
cane chairs
surrounded by
lazy
hand held fans

Goa

a breeze
a verandah

iron benches
with baroque designs

whitewashed walls
with high ceilings

glasses
wine
newspapers
shades of maroon
and earth

Watching
stories
in slow motion
with almost a smile
inside

as I stood watching
this lovely lovely house

Ceramic pigeons

The little girl with the wooden sandals
Tapping away on the walkway
And in the rain
Seeking C'mas
And words.
Beer gardens and coffee gardens
Never found
Number 38 which I wanted
Number 34 which I didnt.
Measuring the weeks
And the options
Holding on, off and on
In the rain.
Tap tap tap tap
Goes the sidewalk
On this day
In the rain.