I need to get the hell out of my bed.

Even the mynas of Vashisht, with their little yellow legs, walk more in a single day than I’ve walked in the last two years. They walk in spite of their magical gift of flight. They walk as if they are villagers walking around in the village, not birds.

What’s my excuse?

Date

22 March 2022

Up next

Small messages of spring ⋮ Cherry stars. In my new lovely home made of the Himalayan mud and cow dung I turn on the butter-yellow porch lights: white flowers of the nearby cherry tree

Previously

The fruit of the night. Tonight, the fruit of the night swinging in the starry sky is finally ripe but on a higher branch, unreachable as always. You cannot grab it or bite