The kindness of strangers.

Not all those who wander are lost

Now my travels come to an end, and I am full of something that my good friend Arvinda calls ‘tabanca’. It is a Trinidadian word and I think it means great sadness or longing. My friend Arv means a lot to me, he’s one of those special ones who understand the meaning of the phrase ‘Not all those who wander are lost.” So my travels for now are over. I try hard to hold on to the words of a companion, who says that leaving enables us to meet those friends who we’ve not come across yet. Or something like that. But that’s not the way I feel just now.

Bangalore 2

I feel like again, again, again, in setting myself free, I allow myself to fully experience the kindness of humankind, the beauty of the world. The way that most people, given a chance, will welcome you into their lives, and show you generosity and wonderfulness and incredible spirit, for no other reason than just because. Just because you are you and they are they and for some reason – whatever reason – there is something you share.

Bangalore 1

This kindness overwhelms me, as I sit up in the air, thousands of feet above the ocean. People are amazing. But why is it so hard to feel this in ‘normal life’? Not impossible, not at all, but it is hard, that much is true. I wonder why ‘normal’ is as it is, and why those who choose to dance to the beat of a different drum are seen as the odd ones. I could conjur up a million reasons, yet I care not to.

The fact is that I am dissatisfied with the way things are. The existing world order. I always have been. I’ve always been an outsider. I’ve always had itchy feet. I’ve always been the girl who burned burned burned for something else. Just quite what is that something else? My journey continues.

Burn burn burn


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