TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile
One of those weird mornings, sombre and lightsome, serious and leisurely. I have yoga soon, after a walk along the sea. I attend yoga about three times a week, and on my walk to the gym, I glimpse the sea in all its moods, raging, peaceful, turbulent, quiescent, a long-haired woman, a snake, a piece of sequinned cloth. Never one thing only, like the self or identity. I am an animal, part-star, part-dream, a single stroke in earth's diary.