river terminal…

Everything is for sale, even afloat.

The flies are a good sign. Maybe this batch has avoided the formaldehyde dip.

I try not to think about it much.

I have many thoughts I choose to let alone.

And yet there is an elegance, a loveliness, that defies even the dross and dirt of closer examination.

The ferries are packed, crowded, cramped; tiny worlds. I see boats so heavy laden that just staying above the water seems a miracle. There must be magic…

My embassy cheerfully informs me that capsizing is common.

I’m glad that I can swim, although this black murk-muck looks like death at a splash…

The stench is indescribable, unspeakable. I have no words so awful.

The shaky little shack-shuttles seem safer bets and the river drifts with fogs of tiny boats plying their trade from shore to shore.

Life is lived against the odds, a tide turn. I may as well hold my breath and enjoy it..

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9 Responses to river terminal…

  1. Poetry. The verbal imagery coupled with the visual imagery is tremendous. “Everything is for sale, even afloat.” I like that very much…it sticks to me…

  2. Kristie West says:

    The bog of eternal stench? (3 million points for knowing the reference)
    xx

  3. _Labyrinth_, and a cinematic gem I must say…

  4. jmgoyder says:

    Wonderful post – you are a wordsmith!

    • Thank you Julie, It is lovely to have you following, reading and commenting – it is always so nice to find something in my inbox waiting for me.. makes it feel a bit less like writing to a blank page!

  5. Yet another gorgeous post… Xx

  6. Afterwards says:

    Your words and pictures brought me right back to my time in India, especially floating in a small boat down the Ganges… I am wishing I could see what you are seeing and experience what you are experiencing! Beautiful.

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