Dust, Gold and a Blue Dawn

Egypt, like so many thousands before me, has captured a piece of my soul. I would travel here a hundred years if life gave me time. Gold, dust, shattered statues, pillars of light in shaded halls, ribbons of fading paint cling to grooves in chiselled walls; so remote, so close. Old colonial buildings slowly falling into ruin, bustling streets, cacophony of noise, cogs of human industry grinding against the ephemeral glitter of life.

the Inner River

"Now the long road of the pilgrimage meets the path of the nile... Canyons of orange and beige roll down into empty dells of rust and bone; dusted staircases and shattered statues licked with gold. Pillars of alabaster split the horizon and strange mountains rise like chiselled breasts, mocking the sky."

The Path of the Nile

"...And now your eyes see it... layers of memory are ushered away to reveal kingdoms tasted in dreams long ago... Canyons of orange and beige roll down into empty dells of rust and bone; dusted staircases and shattered statues licked with gold. Pillars of alabaster split the horizon and strange mountains rise like chiselled breasts, mocking the sky. Kingfishers glide across braided ripples of copper and blue; crown of Ramses emblazoned by the fire of a sleepy star. Finally this land reaches out a hand to you, as time itself stops... a secret mark passed from the heavens kisses your brow. You have held all of this within your heart from the earliest days of boyhood. Even you had forgotten! This magical place. Land of kings, sand and stars. Your dreams upheld, an offering to the righteous sun; arms quivering. Swollen and full, you gasp. This is really happening. You are really here. The inner river finally reaches the outer shore; all tributaries aligned with the wide arms of the great valley..."

The Voices of Ancestors

Deep, in the Bush, this kind of Africa still lives, where children run barefoot in the dust to the pounding of stone and millet, where the voices of ancestors still echo across the sunburnt hills, where the red sun hums like a glowing ember behind the billowing grey choke of campfires, blades are sharpened each morning to the tremble of the dawn chorus, arrowheads are delicately rolled in poisonous weeds by thick cracked hands, and grounded bark and pollens remain the cure-all for every disease and ailment. Here, fading gently with time, the cradle of mankind's legacy on earth waits, waits for hungry passengers of the cosmic drama to dine on its forgotten nectars and deliver its message to a world bereft of a spirit...

Of Oath and Reflection. Love Letter to India #3

"It was as if the people in this exotic and strange place were closer to the very fabric of life, the very fragility of existence. The folk I encountered were not so guarded by the thick veils and illusions that usually withhold us from embracing our reality. The air was lighter, less tense, more open. The focus was not on the pains of birth, but on the joy of infancy. Here, death was never far away; the perishable life wasn't so hidden..."

I Am The Fire

“Life for me is about moving on, staying strong, being free – progressing, always improving, doing, seeking, finding… and sometimes keeping. I’m happiest when I’m on a journey – whether inward or outward. I detest still waters of the soul – my spirit bursts and gushes forth, like a river. I am raw and alive. Freedom [...]

Dear Desmond…

Dear Desmond. My little Desmond.My perfect little fragile boy. It's me. I can see me there, reflected in your eyes.A black shadow... colour faded... I think about you every single day.I remember the smell of your afro hair, the sound of your giggling voice, the feel of your skinny legs wrapped around my shoulders, your hand [...]

My Love Is Your Love

Take that fever! Been feeling ill a lot recently - seem to be getting one illness after another. This winter has been unkind... If you don't know what neutropenia is you should look it up. It's hell. But spring is finally here! Apart from planning my next trip through Africa (Ghana again, Burkina Faso, Mali, [...]

Deep in the Indian Jungle…

Dodamarg. Maharashtra. India. Alone. Free. Alive. You are deep in the jungle in South India, wading gently downstream, on the very edge of a river: fast-flowing, powerful, and swollen with fresh monsoon waters. You are in the safest, shallowest waters, under the thick canopy of tropical trees. You are alone, and you have never felt more [...]