love by heart

Dearest Katherine
Time has burnt the hours of the night away. Its my last day here in the desert, and I did not want to waste it in the dullness of sleep. Instead, I sat on a sand dune and tried to map your face in the landscape of stars that I was blanketed by. Though I have never seen you, I try and picture the woman you are by the letters you write. The way you describe what eating a pear feels like...the way you talk about a love divine, that ages like fine wine. I may not know your face but I know your heart .
Yours Always.

He heard her on 'Lunch by Poetry' over the radio one afternoon, in the blistering heat of Marekesh. In a deep, sultry voice, she was reciting verses from one of his favourites, Tagore. The poem was 'Where the Mind is Without Fear' and the words came to life as they took flight from her lips.
After lunch, the journalist, with his heart in his hand made his way through the dusty streets,destination radio station, where he hoped to find 'the voice'.
Upon arrival, he asked around for her, sadly as all love stories would have it, she had just left for the airport,taking a trip to the-manager-couldn't-remember-where.
"She'll be back in 2 months, come back then if you want to", he said with the flippancy of an emotionally challenged lard ass.
As you can imagine, the writer heard the dissappointment he felt. In 2 months, he would be in New York,on another assignment. 'Life's a bitch' he thought.
Before leaving, he enquired as to her name and the address of the station.
He left Morrocco the following day, travelling through Tripoli,Tunis, the Algiers,trying to lose himself to the mysticism of these places.

Time flew and soon he was in the Big Apple, doing a story on Professor Robert Coles, a brilliant child psychiatrist. They say time heals all.... well they obviously didn't know what they were talking about. Since he had left Morrocco, he had written Katherine countless letters, with the infinite and aching hope that she might reply when she returns home.

It was Thursday, 18th of March....exactly 2 months. 'Katherine returns'......he thought to himself. His heart smiled inside that she would find his letters. His heart shivered at the thought that she might not read them. All he could do was wait..... just as he had done all this time.

Everynight after dinner, she sat on her porch and read his letters against the backdrop of the setting sun, a menage a trois so perfect and pure.

Life ceased to be a bitch the day he saw the Morroccan stamp peeping out from the stack of other insignificant mail. The elation he felt was indescribable as he dove for the envelope, ripped it open and abandoned himself to her words. The paper was laden with scents that brought him back to Morrocco that night.

So, this correspondence carried on for months. To a certain extent, they were both procastinating to meet, afraid that it might mar the perfection they had.
She often wondered how he could be in love with someone whose face he never saw.
He wondered whether he was crazy to think that this was a something real and tangible.
Over the months, they had come to know each other by heart. It was a love based on faith in each other and the essence of their souls. It was a love of spiritual dimensions.
Should we be so lucky as to experience the divinity of such a feeling.

Eventually 2 1/2 years passed, and they agreed to meet at Gran Cafe de Paris in Tangier.
She would have a white daisy in her hair and a book on her lap.
He flew to back to Morrocco, a journey that felt like he was returning home.
Never would he have imagined his life to have unravelled the way it has.
He walked towards the cafe that afternoon, and as he approached,
there she was .....his one true north.......the woman whose voice had hypnotized him. She could not have been more radiant in his eyes. Thick hair, as black as midnight, twisted into a careless bun. Ocean green eyes that held infinity and a smile that seemed so familiar.
The daisy was snug behind her ear and the book 'The Home and The World' by Rabindrath Tagore was on her lap.He smiled.

As she was wheelchair bound, she could not rise to greet him, so the journalist, with all the love in his heart got down on his knees and hugged her, whispering 'It's about time'.






Disclaimer: All events and persons portrayed are fictional and any similarities are of complete coincidence.

References: The Home and The World by Rabindrath Tagore
Where the Mind is Without Fear by Rabindrath Tagore

my favourite things

music the sound of rain fall at night vannila icecream
hazelnut cookies sting quiet time beards
converse mummy's pork vindaloo fighting with arul e doogie&tiger
writing frisbee games the strokes
the seaside tom yam soup the colour white
jazz children's laughter kinderbuenno
portobello street michael jackson playing tic tac toe
hackie sacks the smell of vanilla shaggy hair climbing rocks
drums water coke(drink not powder)
drawing clouds new york city
ballet my quilt quirky t-shirts
watching skateboarding,rock and roll, sarcastic banter with donovan hot chocolate
white chocolate cheesecake neil diamond the smell of the sea
cantaloop the smell of cut grass the dawn hugs
wrestling coffee letters
white daisies books chris botti basketball lazy sunday afternoons
eleven minutes stars cooking
joni mitchell chess kierkegaard
log cabins full fridges the bass
salvador dali movies brontosauruses playing the piano
water fights pigs pancakes beach-volleyball laughing(appropriately)

i don't like mondays

The silicon chip inside her head
Gets switched to overload.
And nobody's gonna go to school today,
She's going to make them stay at home.
And daddy doesn't understand it,
He always said she was as good as gold.
And he can see no reason
'Cause there are no reasons
What reason do you need to be shown?

Tell me why?
I don't like Mondays.
Tell me why?
I don't like Mondays.
Tell me why?
I don't like Mondays.
I want to shoot
The whole day down.

The telex machine is kept so cleanAs it types to a waiting world.
And mother feels so shocked,Father's world is rocked,
And their thoughts turn toTheir own little girl.
Sweet 16 ain't so peachy keen,No, it ain't so neat to admit defeat.
They can see no reasons
'Cause there are no reasons
What reason do you need to be shown?

Tell me why?
I don't like Mondays.
Tell me why?
I don't like Mondays.
Tell me why?
I don't like Mondays.
I want to shoot
The whole day down.

All the playing's stopped in the playground now
She wants to play with her toys a while.
And school's out early and soon we'll be learning
And the lesson today is how to die.
And then the bullhorn crackles,And the captain crackles,
With the problems and the how's and why's.
And he can see no reasons
'Cause there are no reasons
What reason do you need to die?

Tell me why?
I don't like Mondays.
Tell me why?
I don't like Mondays.
Tell me why?
I don't like Mondays.
I want to shoot
The whole day down.

-the boomtown rats-

with the snap of a finger

It was one of the most over whelming sights to have beheld. I did contemplate how tiresome it might be to write up yet another piece on this monumental event, seeing as the media has already covered the grounds..........but hey I couldn't help myself!!!
First and foremostly, Bob Geldof is an absolute LEGEND! And its not just because of his efforts in organizing Live Aid in 1985 and the recent Live 8 in Hyde Park. From interviews he's given and articles/a book he wrote, he seems to be a very real,-what you see is what you get-kinda person. I love the fact that he's completely candid and calls it as he sees it. Doesn't care about who he's talking about or what he's talking about...if he has an opinion about something, you're gonna hear it! He's one of those people who's not buggered down by popularity votes and all that shite. To top it off, the Irish accent!!!! Lovely!!!!!

Live 8 was a series of 10 simultaneous concerts that spanned the G8 nations and South Africa.
The turn out was incredible......and the performances...well the multitudes that flocked to the events in the respective countries were treated to an epic evening, especially in Hyde Park where the line up was made up with the likes of U2, STING!!!!, Madonna, PINK FLOYD!!PINK FLOYD...thye last time they performed was about 20 odd years ago!!!!!

Sting...ah Sting..... as always he put up a mesmerizing show, didn't say anything..just came on stage, did his thing and gracefully bowed out.


Throughout,the concert was highlighted with various video clips of the situation in Africa. Reading about it in the news and literature is one thing but when you see footage of the horrors going on there... its just...NO WORDS.

So yeah, with all that said, hopefully the concerts and the summits and all the tireless campaigns have rubbed off on all of us and some sort of difference will be made. That's all there is to say really!