Let sleeping dog

Om Beach. Gokarna.
I have started this entry several times, only to realise that the words that accumulate on the screen are either awkward in their expression or completely insufficient for describing the place, the people, the feeling of being here. Frustrated with cotton wool in my throat and the splintered shards of clumsy adjectives stuck between my teeth, i write on: The past few days of consisted of the same basic routine. After waking up, getting up, one finds a spot in the cafe to gaze at the gentle waves of the Arabian Sea while eating fruit and drinking chai. Sometimes i write, sometimes i listen to music, sometimes (but not today) i go for a run along the shore. Gradually other bodies accummulate and before you know it we are laughing about the day before, the day ahead, what we do in the real world, etc. Wherever we go, Jas and i seem to find ourselves emotionally caught up in some rare and precious social network - a community of like minded sorts from different corners of the globe, all very different, all very the same. With each day that passes i find myself becoming more and more emotionally attached to this place, these people - the thought of leaving becomes increasingly abhorant.
And although we move about very little; do very little; it doesn't seem to get boring. Quite the opposite. It gets better. The other day we swam in the sea and drank rum while the sun oozed between the rocks and the waves. I have taken many photos here but it is not possible to upload them. And we talked and laughed about wiping the sunburnt brow and flicking the red colour onto the sand and it accummulating there and then the urgent need to put a bit of sunscreen on that sand. The rum here is called "Old Monk" and so we laugh about the Monks at the table and many wicked jokes stem forth from this name. As dusk became night we stood on the sand, the waves gently lapping at our ankles, and we spoke of fear and love and everything in its own time. And i said to those nearby that i thought it was the best day of my life. And for the first time i thought perhaps i now have something to say. Perhaps now i can write and sing with the voice of someone who has seen and experienced something amazing, something profound. For a long time i have wanted to write and to say things, to be an artist, but never have i known what exactly. But i did not care, i would say it anyway though i knew not what it was. And now i think i have something new inside of me that is worth saying; that should be said; and i don't know how yet. The feeling is there, but i guess i will have to find my voice again. But everything in its own time.

And it would appear that with my talent for massage i might be able to travel a little longer than without. And tonight a group of us, some twelve or so i think, will take a boat to a nearby secluded cove and camp for the night. It was my job to source the boat and now i must find food and more Monk. And so from somewhere far away, between palm trees and the slow heave of tides, so long. We stay here for a few days more. Then we go back to Hampi perhaps. Then i go to Kerala to see the spirit possession dances of the Thannur. Jealous?