“…the reality is this image of her has so deeply connected to my neuronic mapping of feelings or sensation of love, that despite all rational reasons, or true attachments to others or crazy total love stories I’d go through, she somehow peeps out of the pits and shows up again in my dreams. Her face, her demure, voice even is the mask of intense…”
I liked how G’s hair felt a part of it. Or how it would rhyme with the landscape. Fooled around a lot with it, and I believe the last snap of her silhouette like a genie of the place really captures the mix of play and mystery. A smouldering evening. My Kathleen Turner of our tropical forest.
That’s how Bali caters to your expectations of the far east. Minimum hindrance. While destinations outwardly different, culturally incongruent to our inner making we usually tag differently, “end of the world” type of perception. But not “exotic”
what was this experience made of? or was this space at the confluence of spiritual waters (hindu-buddist-muslim) that allows for thinner veils between beings of different worlds..?