Cryptic notes in farewell…

Someone has adjusted the brightness of the light outside in the past few days. The incredible mellow, subdued warmth of the past few weeks is now getting re-tuned to loud, harsh and hot. To get hotter in the coming months.

It feels as if I’m back at the radio studio – as I push down one fader, and pull open another – the music from the previous track meets the new one somewhere in the middle – merging for a fleeting moment. One goes out, the other takes over and there’s nothing else to do but go with the flow of the new rhythm.

This time next week, it’ll be 20 degrees cooler in Bristol and I can anticipate the blues hitting me at some stage. I’ll miss the busy, varied days – the long train journeys, the visits to all the extraordinary places (Karkolli, near Sirsi, Aundipatty, near Madurai, Gummidipundi, near Chennai), the weekly trips to the vegetable shop, and the completeness that a trip to an old temple can bring. Once again, I pack up the personal history and leave it behind in my childhood home.

I’ve understood that it is always a case of striving for a recognisable beat, the right pitch – a symphony for my life that only I can compose. The discordant notes that shriek and scream eventually do settle down. The secret lies in the many invisible gear shifts that are needed to make it all ring true.

 

 

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Travel

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  1. Don’t leave all your personal history behind in your childhood home, Mites. Make it come with you!

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