Morning in India

Lights are dancing in the sky today.

The lingering fragrance from the night’s blooming flowers serenades the earth with its quiet symphony.

The air sways to the sound of clanging pots and rushing water as it hits the anklets on tiny feet.

The sun’s soft rosy glow filters through as chai is served with hands decorated in bangles and mendhi, all the sweeter as it touches one’s lips.

And as the musical horns fill the air and the dogs sing in response, you know that morning has arrived in India.

 

Beautiful watercolor and impressionist style artwork by my lovely friend, Holly Firth. Go admire and support this talented artist :)

http://hollyfirth.wordpress.com/
http://www.etsy.com/au/shop/HollyFirthArt?ref=l2-shopheader-name

Moments

Accidentally took a screen shot when I preparing to send my sister a birthday video. Ended up taking a few more and this was the result. Sometimes you've just got to make fun of yourself.

“[A] quotation is a handy thing to have about, saving one the trouble of thinking for oneself, always a laborious business." - A. A. Milne

Hello December

Look at this.

My ridiculously talented friend: http://scialodle.tumblr.com/

Marc Chagall

New poet-artist discovery! Can't believe I haven't come across him before. 


The country which is in my soul
Is mine alone.
I enter without a passport.
Like me,
It knows my sadness
And my solitude.
It numbs me
And shrouds me with its heavy scent.

For me the gardens flower.
Flowers are my creation.
The streets belong to me
But there are no houses,
They were destroyed in early childhood.
Its inhabitants roam in the air
In search of a home;
They dwell in my soul.

For this reason I smile
When my sun is barely shining,
Or I cry
Like a light rain
In the night.

There was a time when I wore two heads.
There was a time when these two faces
Covered themselves with an amorous dew
And were based on the scent of a rose.

Now it seems the same
To me when I return.
I look ahead
Towards a high portal
Behind which some walls spread themselves
Where faded thunder sleeps
And light breaks through.

The country which is in my soul
Is mine alone.