with a heartbreak, the bed is my comfort. i wait here.
the sun is pale against the wall of the bungalows that have gone-up next door. all these little colonies Kathmandu is now spotted with. pretty white bungalows that steal all the sunlight from their neighbours, you know. so, that's my only hint of the day these days- the sunlight that shines on the bungalow and reflects on my windows.
kanchu has strewn the floor with socks and lingerie. she likes to throw them in the air. so there they lie, crisp and dry from the sun they soaked in just before it started raining the other day.
i wish it would rain again, and i could just remain in bed, soaking in the warmth, matching my tears with the sound of the rain.
(if Nhooja read this, he would call me an emo. But, remember Kevin who said Derrida is an emo? he deconstructed himself.)
the sun is pale against the wall of the bungalows that have gone-up next door. all these little colonies Kathmandu is now spotted with. pretty white bungalows that steal all the sunlight from their neighbours, you know. so, that's my only hint of the day these days- the sunlight that shines on the bungalow and reflects on my windows.
kanchu has strewn the floor with socks and lingerie. she likes to throw them in the air. so there they lie, crisp and dry from the sun they soaked in just before it started raining the other day.
i wish it would rain again, and i could just remain in bed, soaking in the warmth, matching my tears with the sound of the rain.
(if Nhooja read this, he would call me an emo. But, remember Kevin who said Derrida is an emo? he deconstructed himself.)
I want to offer a poem but I only have my arms today. Hug.
ReplyDeleteOn an aside, Derrida is my never waning moon. Too far away but always there.
ReplyDeleteopen arms are just what i need today. much more than a poem
ReplyDeleteI'm wondering why we kept thinking of Kevin. A month or two after our ACFJ summer (maybe a year after), I bumped into him here in Davao in a presscon with workers and peasants. I wish he would stumble into our blogs! haha.
ReplyDeleteDon't cry, Pratish, good memories are a comfort, too.
what was he doing, Germie? he looked so fragile for all that. but maybe just right, too
ReplyDelete