Tag: Artist
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Lost Post: The Monk on The Edge of Benaras
© pinkybinks
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Super-Nature Revisited
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Observation of a Tribe and The X21
A daily two-hour commute on public transport heading to something which resembles a large red triangle of sorts. A town full of supermarkets and pound-shops instead of aspirations. Poverty and push chairs, mothers and mobility scooters. Bellies and breasts, clad in orange, clad it knocked off sportswear, male and female. Tattooed necks, wrists and knuckles, shiny earrings, belts and buckles. Give it a sausage roll, thank god for Greggs. Human…
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The Boy in Yangon
© pinkybinks
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Instant History – Polaroids From Then
© pinkybinks
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Black. White. Burma – Test Prints on Cartridge
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Who Are You Internet?
There is a build or back log of posts that should be published. The ones i think are boring get liked, understanding not like. Are bloggers boring or am i thinking too much about my pitch. Who pitch the pitch. Pitch. Who are you internet? Who are you internet? Who are you internet? A head bobs…
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Sometimes When We Travel We Forget Who We Are / Happy New Year!
Morning in Yangon 1/1/2012 A new year in the west and here time and date wise, but the Burmese new year is April. I try to remember years gone by but become creeped out by my ever-growing fingernails, hand extensions like shells. Dancing all night on the streets i am delirious. Another swig of Tiger. When…
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Hello, Where Are You Going? I Love You. December in Cambodia and Laos
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Broken Day
Little rhythmical bells and chimes twinkling in my ears. Tears hide in the back of my eyes, chugging down the track from Bangkok. Fields of cotton swaying in the breeze from side to side; or is that just me? palms stretching through the bright blue sky – sunbound. Green so vividly green it’s almost yellow.…
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Is Roller Skating a Meditation?
You can’t relax with it, i can’t relax without it. Where do we fit without fear? Inhale – Exhale – Exhale Inhale. Nothing everything. Internal external. Dread panic nothing. Pre Earthquake….. Mogal Shari station was hell; only because of the amount of time we spent there due to miss information from our previous hoast. Sitting…
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My Nostrils Are Alive, With The Smell of Mumbai
It’s totaly lashing down like nothing else i have ever experienced in Mumbai. The arrival came at 4:00 AM on Thursday morning. We were picked up by a turban clad Sikh who drove us to our pre-booked, over priced shit hole overlooking the Arabian Sea. The taxi ride through a wet dark city was rather…
PinkyBinks 
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