I am in this hot and lush place with family, talk of family, long lunches and slow-ticking time on my hands. Even if I come away only with sketches I am content (almost) to have these firey images bubbling away and preparing themselves. There are times when the internal things seem to all be lined up like ducks in a row, and time when they seem to be so scattered it's hard to see. This is a time, though, just in between. Holding promise but no mania.
Reading The Moor's Last Sigh (S.Rushdie) in this place is like the sky behind the funny rainbow that is my trip. It took a long time to get inside the book but now I am hooked. (Thanks to my dear friend who picked it out for me, you know what I like)
My grandmother (pictured above) is dancing behind me now to her favourite African music, its a breathy sound that brings heavy, vivid memories of my childhood with her. So many sounds and smells make up the ideas of what happened before, or in this case, what is still happening. The fascination we had of what she was doing and the way she moved!, every morning just as we woke groggy like lion cubs.
I don't think there's anything that makes me so interested and keen to understand as growth and family.