Somewhere between dreaming big and living in small, ordinary moments, I am lost without a compass. There are fleeting thoughts of huts suspended over water in Bora Bora and jeweled palaces in Jaipur and a horizon of tulips in Amsterdam. There are visions of grand stages and published poems and changing lives in profound and
The landscape of my body holds stories that will never be told, perhaps even words that I have never known– ancient dictionaries hidden in the stars of my genes, shaping, deleting, evolving as I move through this life. My heart hold the raucous crashes of Indian rickshaws, and the first caw caw caw of birds