Night. Day.

Old Secretariat . Panjim.

And, the light went off right when someone switched on a light in the story I was reading.


“There is no night darker than a night of fires. There is no man more alone than one running in the midst of a howling mob.”


My friend said that they showed no remorse. “Showed no remorse”. I kept quiet.


Camus makes me hesitate.


I gave wrong directions to people in my dream. Where will they end up?


Early morning. A train whistles in the distance. Is night leaving on that train?

In the sunlit Jantar Mantar, a Russian man recognized my Russian camera. What a beautiful day, I thought.


Sadness. Basho told me


“The morning glories  / bloom, securing the gate / in the old fence”


“Won’t you come and see loneliness?” “…its white shade / glimmers for a moment before dissolving / like a tablet in a glass of darkness.”


Flowers secure the gate. Shadow looks more real than the body. Dreams in a pawn shop. “Even in Kyoto/ I long for Kyoto”. “Names swallowed..”


4 responses to “Night. Day.”

  1. Hi — I’m glad to discover your blog too – I think I saw your name first on Twitter? Thanks for following; I’ve bookmarked your site too.

  2. this one is like seeing through a kaleidoscope.
    you dont want to turn it because this pattern is so beautiful but you cant resist the possibility of beauty in the next one.
    i am not making sense.

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