Tag: diary
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To and from the September Floods
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Instant History – Polaroids From Then
© pinkybinks
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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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Lost Posts – Leaving the Monastery
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You’ve Come Home
The light outside shielded by fabric, drapes, muted. Soft and gentle inhales. The piano and songs about snow. A small pink lantern looking better on that stall in Bombay. Coral harmony creeping effortlessly from technology while they work away, painting, filing, i stay horizontal. All days are different but flat connects one to the next.…
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My New Buddies!
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Almost Home – The End
After two days on aircraft and the generic spaces within i am here, home, back in the UK – whatever that means. The train heads north from London, home bound. Eight months exactly from the day the train headed south towards london; towards the first flight right at the very beginning. A train with clean…
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Time to Turn into a Chicken Nugget
As the tears drop out onto the page i wonder. Analysis of this being a good or bad decision? Three days left in India, then transit for over two. Friends and family waiting on the platform as the train pulls into Durham City, the exact location from where all of this started. Drip drip drop.…
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Nashik in Words – The Ganges of the South
No writing for days, hours, minutes until it’s the only thing i can do. The only thing i have to do. Nashik always messes me up, always plays with my mind, always fuck’s me over big style. My second visit in four years and her power is overwhelming. She always makes me feel like i…
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The Hardest Journey So Far
A train ride i have taken a hundred times, a track as familiar as my walk to work and back. Lost between elation and dread , traveling south to a place i have previously called home. Seats with space but my head has none. Heading to a place, a location that has housed my deepest…
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Rural Burma in Black and White
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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…
PinkyBinks 
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