Home after a long while. Disorienting house, new to my parents, newer still to me. I don't know where the light switches are and I have not gotten used the artifice of suburban silence. My new flat in Delhi would have been quiet except for a horde of mad birds all of whom seem to live on my balcony.
I am not on holiday which makes it worse. I am supposed to be working. I have decided to make up a persona of dilettante correspondent and deal with everything at a slow pace. Tomorrow, a movie that I need to review. Today I dream of making churros and calas. Of course it is 2 am and I should sleep. Instead there this blessed slowness, the limbo in which, a messy house is across the country, so is urgent love, so are unwritten books, undone chores, unreplied mails. But right now there is this blessed impossibility of doing anything.
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the blessed impossibility of doing anything...
how how true!
:) :)
bythewindowsill said...
February 28, 2010 at 10:08 PM