9 Oct. 2010 Saturday
From one week to another I find myself pondering, pensive along the scillating shores of the Indian Ocean. Presently in Goa.
Thursday I danced with the fluorescent lights along the river.
Friday I felt the waves' frothy force crash over my entire being, wash away the worries of life on land. Sand sloughs complacency off my skin. Aggressive gypsy women make shop on my leg, refusing to leave without receiving fifty rupees or giving sufficient manipulation. Their reflective clothing doubly implores their subject.
By night friends and I took to the streets of Baga. Narrowly escaped the propositions of an acid-walla. The evening ended blissfully in Peaceland under a mosquito net.
Now a bobbing blue bead, the taxi is threaded by 150 kilometers of a Goan road's dividing line. Navigating by way of the Siver Star, Palolem awaits.
10 Oct. 2010 Sunday
Today we emerge from the sandy shores and take to the sky. Headed homeward, four days of reality lie maliciously in wait before I set out again, this time for Kolkata.
My mood is one of semi-indulgent satisfaction. I allow myself one rationing of Pinback, for I know I can't get sick of them after a weekend of beach-borne pleasures.
Thoughts on the definition of a home in comparison to feelings felt, usher in the unwelcome tradition. I much prefer to muse over the myriad of palm trees, swaying top-heavily from their big coconut bosoms, and the open-air cafes, open to the air of elongated exhales.
My only complaints are mostly minor: The pungent odor exuding from all of my clothes, the gruesome eight-versus-one brawl I fell witness to, and the hollow rapping of homesickness in a back chamber of my heart.
From where I sit there is no divide between sea and sky, only brief the culmination of ether, air and water punctuates the vastness.
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