Outside a building, just a little apart from the rest of the temple, I spied two pairs of empty shoes. From within came a throaty singing so familiar to this place, and the harsh beat of a steel drum. My curiosity was peaked, and so, cautiously, I slipped off my own shoes and stepped inside.
Read more "Meditating with the Buddha"I can only imagine the rest of the tourists were scared off by the grand staircase, a structure that dares you to even try and climb it. That’s the only explanation as to why the temple was so quiet.
Read more "The buddhas chanting "There’s something in the statues eyes, in the way they aren’t looking down at me but rather down at himself, as though thinking. It tells me this is for the now, for the me, sitting here today, not some historical remanent of when religion was a booming, all powerful business.
Read more "Beneath the Buddha"Wiggle wiggle
Waggle waggle
Twisting, turning, house is burning,
Wiggle wiggle waggle waggle woo.
Read more "Wiggle wiggle – a poem"This could very well be the story of how I learned all about myself in Rome (which I did), or how I became more brave and more confident (which I did not). But, well, this is not that story. This is the story of how I literally met a man with my name, and quite a few other things of mine as well.
Read more "The me I met in Rome"The first thing I did in Paris was take a photo of a baguette. Or, more specifically, an ageing man holding a baguette, hooking it under his arm as if that’s what the nook on the other side of your elbow was always meant for.
Read more "An evening in Paris"Amber was expecting the sound, but it sent shivers down her spine nevertheless. When you hear footsteps creaking up the staircase, footsteps that are much too heavy to be your mums despite the fact that she’s the only other person meant to be here, you can’t help but feel a little frightened.
Read more "A bit of a story you’ll never read the rest of"People with lives, lives like shooting stars, gleaming and bright and rare, rare as grass that’s green, water that’s blue.
Read more "This Town Has People In It"The bright eye of the sun peeks through twisted branches, setting but not quite hidden behind the hills. Rusted traintracks curve into the distance, straightening out through a steep valley below.
Read more "Places I’ve been (in Scotland)"Loony Lovegood looking girl,
Leaning right to see,
With swoosh of magic silver hair,
The curly mess of me.
Read more "Loony lovegood looking girl – a love poem"