A friend asked me recently, “What languages are you most comfortable in?” “English”, I said, regretfully.
Growing up, I spoke three languages: Kannada, Tamil, and Hindi.
I step out of the lodge into a cold, moonless night and walk to the water’s edge.
A single bulb outside the lodge winks out and I walk with care on an unpaved trail, feeling the darkness take shape around me.
Last month I wrote about my earliest memories of listening to music. Throughout the nineties I listened to music on our trusty tape recorder with built-in AM/FM radio.
The ladybirds began arriving in ones and twos as the weather turned chilly. I noticed one on the bathroom window screen and wondered how it got there because the window was shut.
In early 2019 I read the book The End of Ice: Bearing Witness and Finding Meaning in the Path of Climate Disruption by Dahr Jamail, an American war correspondent and mountaineer.
