The color of candlelight reflected in black eyes. The dreams in black and white. The smoky smell of good wine. The taste of delicate spices. A panoply of sensual delights making it an evening to remember.

The thousand watts power of a perfect smile!

A world of innocence in her eyes. So precious. So beautiful.

The paradoxical peace of sacred spaces while thousands die in/against the name of the same religion.

Look, look! Look at what I can do. I can make mysterious spirals out of silly ribbons. I can twirl and twist a piece of cloth to form the most amazing shapes. See, see! See the shapes I make!

Something from my archives.

With eyes of steel he stares down the world. A man made of darkness and bright sunshine, walking in a world all his own.

The heat, the wet wet heat clings to me like a second skin. I dream of blue lagoons, white sandy beaches, floating on water with a cool mango lassi, tongue numbed by ice-cubes. She laughs at my discomfort and dreams, a tinkling laugh flowing like a fresh waterfall.

…and the river flowed, like my thoughts. People hiding in the shadows. Quiet, listening to the music the river made as it tripped over smooth stones. Over the bridge old saints stood guard over humanity, sentinels of faith and belief. Far above, beyond my reach, a lone cloud spiraled in on itself like a shy child unable to open up, hiding its many secrets.

Abandoned and empty. A place where time has no meaning and the windows look into emptiness. The world moved on, into newer places. But the old still exists. In a world all its own. Stripped almost bare yet full of meaning, waiting to be understood.