I have a mild fever, all morning I have been drifting in and out of sleep : everything is blurring into something else, and it seems like I have forgotten how my own face looks in a mirror, this is the second day of the new year, no no it is the the third, my birthday was only two days ago, or twenty six years ago, there is an unopened bottle of Bombay Sapphire -I love gin – whose colour has stained even my skin it seems, and tuberoses by my bed are fragrant with the scent of mustard flowers I don’t know how my apartment in Jaipur is surrounded by Hong Kong alleys and did my mother really just come in and ask me to taste from a bowl filled with desert sand and local flowers, or was it honey someone sold to her from a crushed honeycomb?
Beyond Six Rivers 