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those settled layers between you and me…
Dust from ages gather; thicken and glues to the breath. The breath doesn’t reach existence; it disappears somewhere in between life and living and yet I breathe, yet I exist. The eyes seek to gaze within, to see where the breath disappears. Fingers itch to strip off the layers but they halt halfway, remembering they…
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Gypsy Lives
the sacred ebbs…the spectatress loses speech Still from: Dom za vesanje (Time of the Gypsies) by Emir Kusturica
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Faith
when time and death make love; when a mum settles in the heart never to leave Still from: Solyaris by Andrei Tarkovsky
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An Artist’s search
Thousands of Lauras (Sylvias?) and thousands of loves… where is his? yours? ours? Still from: En la ciudad de Sylvia (In the city of Sylvia) by Jose Luis Guerin.
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Agonizing
I saw him going away when the sun was about to set Through the foot-lane1 amidst the fields A japi2 on his head two heavy sheaf of paddy on his shoulders Making jirik jirik3 sounds. They too left with him, the golden sunshine of August the hay covered neighbourhood, the thin lane midst bamboos and…
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Casually Classical 