Hand in hand, we amble.
You’re saying your prayers, you set the pace.
How else would I have seen the Monet-like leaves, almost white green, or the bed of flamboyant red tiger lilies.
In colors, my prayer.
Tied myself up in knots over some words for most of last week, amazing how calm one feels once one decides upon the course of attack.
Looks like monsoon-time now.
Mumbai floods, and is as stoic.