Thirty Six Forty Two Thirty One Seven
THIRTY SIX
Your outline is elsewhere, you leave no trace
THIRTY SEVEN
Your shadow escaping a dangerous place
THIRTY EIGHT
Passing the streethawks, crossing the tracks
THIRTY NINE
The marketplace columns, the jungle unmapped
FORTY
I wish we were there where your shadow appears
FORTY ONE
Tending the memory or your disappeared
FORTY TWO
Forever I seek you, your flickering hand
FORTY THREE
Forever I fall, where Araliya lands
Images of Suba and Chandra by Periplum & Brian Hartley
Twenty Nine Thirty Five Twenty Four Thirty
TWENTY NINE
Turn left for pleasure, turn right for trade. Turn to the ocean, your footprints erased.
THIRTY
Wish you were here crossing divides
THIRTY ONE
Between beach and street, shadowed by shore side
THIRTY TWO
Wish you were here sharing the waves
THIRTY THREE
Your family calls, your silhouette fades
THIRTY FOUR
Your fear on the shoreline, your laughter inland
THIRTY FIVE
Dancing in shadows, far from western sands
Images of Suba and Chandra by Periplum & Brian Hartley
Twenty Two Eight Seventeen Twenty Three
TWENTY TWO
Wish you were here, footprints in sand
TWENTY THREE
Where you fall, where I land
TWENTY FOUR
Invisible lines divide the shore
TWENTY FIVE
Hidden in coral, your imprint no more
TWENTY SIX
Wish you were here, where wild breakers rise
TWENTY SEVEN
Crashing the shore
TWENTY EIGHT
To crash paradise
Images of Suba and Chandra by Periplum & Brian Hartley
Fifteen Twenty One Ten Sixteen
FIFTEEN
The fisherman haul their nets inland. Shoals of tourists film them, while the fish suffocate on the shore.
SIXTEEN
Bodies outlined in the sand and flowers thrown into the sea, the shadows of an idea ebb and flow.
Photo by Brian Hartley
SEVENTEEN
Abandon the spirit house in the spirit of simplicity.
EIGHTEEN
Treasure hunt to find the wandering Pirate vagabond & Sleepdog sounds from under the sand.
NINETEEN
Adventure to the Temple of the Tooth with incredible monkey crow dramas played out on our Kandy apartment balcony.
TWENTY
Climbing up the eternal steps to observe eternally reclining Buddhas, return to blockades, military police and a curfew in Kandy, we observe the tensions rise.
TWENTY ONE
Sri Lankan trains a running less rapidly lose their novelty and charm
Eight Fourteen Two Nine
EIGHT
Take boulder climbing tuk-tuks to surf the Sinharaja Forest. Spiders, lizards, butterflies, invisible vipers can’t frighten such intrepid travelers: with our socks pulled up over our trousers we are all set to scare away the leeches.
NINE
Hide in the shade of Galle’s colonial elegance watching it’s harbour glisten with the shiny new debris in the sea.
TEN
Paradise angst subsides from rods, sticks and shifting sands.
ELEVEN
Take a step to the left for tourists, tuk tuks and touts and a step to the right for idyllic rural village. Lining the lanes in funeral white, we pay our respects to timeless passing.
TWELVE
Lightning strike storms rain and the Galle to Hikkaduwa bus seats steam, overseen by a disco Buddha.
THIRTEEN
Plumbing rods in the sand bend our thoughts to roadside steel plate deals, lightning guides us to Koggalla where the fishermen balance on crooked posts with an overexposed catch.
FOURTEEN
Even a lifelong Buddhist can only gain one glass of knowledge from an ocean of thought, your bad deeds become your shadow: your shadow is with you, and my shadow is with me. The young Sri Lankan girl in the supermarket hides from the shadow of a foreign order.
One Seven One
ONE
There are hurt turtles swimming in the sanctuary. One in a million is albino.
TWO
The ocean takes a deep breath, undresses coral to expose paradise
THREE
Travelers stand waist-deep in the waves, searching for a straight line.
We meet and submerge.
FOUR
The ancient masks ward off ailments, the guide points us to one you shouldn’t look directly in the eye
FIVE
The Dogs will take a bite, but you should really try not to bite back
SIX
We release the baby turtles to the shoreline. All scuttle to the sea, one in a hundred will survive.
SEVEN
The pulp from the paper factory makes banana, lemongrass & elephant dung amalgamate to create a blank canvas of many textures. I’ve arrived.
CR Sura Medura 1
MOVEMENTS
From shore to street. From street to shore.
Boomtide landings echo memories of thunder.
Red dawn-ants rising to beat silent ever-widening waltz of floors & walls.
Black moth concertina-bird looping imperceptible threads & unrepeatable patterns from palm to sky to frond to fall.
Sand-dogs delivering jut jaw-call, doing lookout for their ever-absent keeper.
Buzz-bomb traffic shuttering the street side corridor, doing bulletline doppler symphony in series, eager for expressway.
Bread arriving by work-bike motor.
Wave-breakers wading out towards the hope for mother-pulse to work the wonder / lift the water to their spray of levitation and dissolve in the arc of arrival.
Ever & always the claim-claws of the young-ancient amnesiac ocean raking – forgotten, what they reach for, forgetting what they’re taking.
Petals unmoving in the grit.