The dead tree is live in the monsoon; Birds and their chirping, orchids and their flowers , mosses and their green- With all these live upon its branches, all I believe is that the engine to life is often the life in others.
They live and so, you live. The longer you live in them, the longer you live in the world.
I was wondering why the village boys were pulling me to the top of the hillock. They thought a man who had worn a pair of city-boots hadn't seen goats! I couldn't bare to share a laugh and this snap.
I have often wondered where these grandpa families flee in the monsoon. Well to find out only yesterday; Nowhere. They don't seem to get wet at the treetops while I was dripping wet.
The Yellow Ash is a rare variety of mushroom, supposedly poisonous but exquisitely handsome. I was lucky enough to beat around the bushes for a snap like this.
I had be happy to give you a few scientific snaps on request.
I love to spin stories like a Chinese wise man.
Stories where the angle and context matters, where the portraited and landscaped views of my characters differ the perspective of the yarn.
Where the characters are live actors in the drama of the society I observe.
The Lawyer and The Bard The Portrait and The Landscape
But on the straight lines of the world I travel in, I try to etch out the beauty and the melancholy, the silence and the sympathy, the vanity and the tragedy, the nature and the philosophy, the splendor and the ugly.