I recently saw an exhibition, of photographs, by a British photographer who photographs India’s abandoned beautiful spaces and edits into each image an animal, sometimes two or three. So it seems like only swans, cows, monkeys, elephants, tigers, etc. inhabit the country, living in these mysterious ornate buildings: a deserted planet which, after its original inhabitants left, is spouting these strange life forms, who roam around freely, enhancing the beauty of the landscape with their strangeness: if observed from a distance, they are at times delightful, frightening at times.
The artist calls it India Song.
Last night, somewhere in the middle of a wine induced sleep, I saw the legs of a heron: taut and thin like a stem (of a plant, of a glass, of an eye: does an eye have a stem?). I woke up with this feeling that all evening, last night, I was in fact holding a heron and not a wine glass.
Beyond Six Rivers 