Munching on Lay's Magic Masala, I recalled the old advertisement which brought a familiar tag to mind:
No one can eat just one.
It has been 2 weeks of me swirling around in this mad globe of dust and granite. Dust is beautiful here. Monkeys perch on the promontory every morning. The wind slaps you around, the dust pricks, searches and finally settles for, on what it finds.
Chips are good.
I found a book on Sugar embroidery, sugar quilting. The one who trades in confectionary keeps them. They're beautiful, like the dust. Only more planned, organised. The dust is intricate too.
Chaos and uncertainty are patterns in my dreams. The red and black from my childhood. Marbles I lost to snakes. Talking in riddles.
In the larger frame of life, what matters?
The ultimate question stands:
What is the colour of water?
2 years ago