Anticipating Reality

A photo posted by Priyanka Rao (@priyankalyn) on Jul 20, 2015 at 1:52pm PDT

Pick a number
One by one until there is a string of rosary beads
To account for the times you have strayed from the path
Of affectionate carelessness.

Im a heartbeating whole of another's life,
mothers waist round my own slight
Knowledge of a sure and stable path
A path which leads to the pleasance of age
In accepting the stumblings of its own ragged feet, high heels have no place any longer.

I would apologize for the things I have said and done but in the end
Counting crows is sadder than

My own Welsh life. A toothache has been hurting me here,
A nail scratch on my blue veined wrist and intentional scar of the desperation.
I will tell you there is no reason to fear. I tell you there is no reason to season your sorrows with reason.

If ever a fear was worth forgetting it was the fear of not forgetting the way he touched your hair

You're there.
A moment from the thoughtlessness. A moment away from losing reason.
A slice away from the crack in the door.
The light shines through. You're heaven is there

Heartbreaking experience of making new friends

Yesterday I meditate on the rhythm of the swelling waves upon the low tide of the Weser river.  I watch perched upon the granite high wall of the Weserburg.  The fishman smirk.

Today I study intently my German grammar book, puzzling over the logic of the four German grammatical cases intending to sort through.

Tonight I drink wine glass after glass and glass as our dinner party swells to 20 so people and I simply wander convo to convo in search of satisfaction.

Twenty fascinating people, a tumult of good food and sensual accuity.
I find HowLisa combined with wine results in the confessions of true family life in a semi-family home, the Wohngemeinschaft.

Tarika wishes to share her summer, attempts to live with a boyfriend, a man and still be a person on one's own.  The theme of the summer.
Papa calls.
And American speaks to me.
A chilean with the Zealand accent and that tone of ease, a traveller.
A school student girl that is bicultural and at a party with her father until 1am.
A time to take them all to the bar and then return to our house guests alone all tough in the dark.

Good night.
Call me social, but let me sleep alone. Let me write in peace, and you can read.

Read that I am falling apart and that each confession is a new friendship, and the growing silence in my heart is actually the crecimiento of the new tree growing there- the return of my own silence,
that sound you can consider to by the story of my own soul.

I am.

Priyanka
31st July 2015