I called a bluff and it worked. Again. And again. Silent whispery moves, I’m a look-alike of a fly that grooves among a million grains of tri-color sand. Little, quick to sting, mosquito brand right there in front of people bold; yet unseen, in their fabric fold. Ah, she jerks, turns around and spins herself confound, clapping only, teasing air. “If only I could see … Continue reading Fly Mosquitoes!
Adrift on the Arabian! Fathoms of Black : a beautiful memory. Continue reading Adrift on the Bay of Bengal! Fathoms of Black.