Coffee shop

the ghats cleansed after last night's storm, tired stumbling into the morning adrift upon the crashing thunders and puppy songs awash upon the cloaking night.

today a differing light; the haar becoming a gentle haze, the sun offering warmth...a longer walk for coffee and some wifi, the ghats buzzing in morning frenzy of prayer and washing and the constant white noise of chai being drunk in the background...breakfast at a street stall behind assai ghat, too salty, and a slowing start to the day.

I should read last year's musings upon the place, fearing as I do the echoed repetition of word and image...drifting through days, unexpected halflight and the constant concessions to bikes and cows in the alleys...and I feel slow, words become a stumble of syllables and images tarnish in the moment that the shutter clicks; but not for lacking something, just an improvisation of distances...enough to walk, to listen, not time to search yet, only to pass, only to drift...

later, surfing upon the cardamom tinge of turkish coffee in what appears to have become a random meeting point for faces found around the songlines of the ghats...