nostalgic wanderlust

I am homesick

for lengthy conversations with French Buddhists

on the sandy cliffs of Margao, where I got my nose pierced

January 2nd, 2011. I am lonely without

the tens of millions of silvery sand grains

which shimmered with the sea in the too-early moonlight

as we kicked amber beer bottles into the waves,

where they would float in, back, out…there I was

peace

finally understanding what the hippies were raving about

the wind carried my hair into the sky

and I walked into the ocean fearlessly,

looking great in my Sunday best.

Now I think I may have drowned there, three years past

I do not recognise me

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