Today, I went to Lulu and nearly got sick of seeing the excessive consumerism. Today I tried hunting for vazhakoombu (banana blooms) and muringa poo (moringa flowers) I got neither. I have thought about you so much in the last several months. I secretly visit that old, old blog of yours. The few poems that you left there. I turned 31 this year. When I first spoke to you, I was only 22. How old are you now?
Today, I am more dissolved. disarticulated. disintegrated. Delightfully unsure of where I stand, what I am. No more a woman, but an arboreal ecosystem of connected, secret loves, loveliness and loneliness.