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Happy, Overly Optimistic, or Just Plain Crazy?
It’s not something I see everyday: a whistling old man sticking his thumb out for a ride. Pretty sure the first ride he will be offered (or would actually take) is the bus, but I imagine he will be happy with that.
I have no idea what was going on in his mind. Witnessing him made me hope that the older I get, the happier not only will I be, but will be my recollection of the past, however crazy I might appear to be.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
My Saris Are in India
Seeing photos of my saris (which are now journeying with a friend in South India) brings memories of scents–incense and dust, burning ghee, dung and jasmine blossoms, and the feel of hot stones underneath my bare feet. There it is (evidently newly pressed) among the nagas–serpents, tendrils of myth and memory arising desires from our deepest [un]consciousness. Perhaps I will dream of such tonight.






