Under construction is the magic path that leads to the water garden. Every day I have to ride into the forest, park my bike and steal as many stones from the dried out river bed that I can. It feels almost like a fairy story in itself. In order to build the beautiful pathway, I must venture into the dark, foreboding forest where there is a very real danger of being spotted by some watchful farmer and steal the magic stones from the river bed. Yet, they are so smooth and round, and so deep in blue colour. They are much more beautiful than the other stones I have collected. And this makes the whole process of going to acquire them all the more soaked in trepidation and goblin spittle. It's like a flavour that you crave, and yet you know that every time you take a sip, it weakens you just one little bit more. To steal the stones. To take from the magic river bed, diminishing its own beauty. And returning home and basking in the glory of a shining new path in my own garden. Only that night, secretly tormented by the lustful desire of accumulating yet more stone and wild fancy of commissioning yard upon glorious yard of new cobbles.
Wonderful days have now been spent relaxing at home. Oi is very easy and does her thing, leaving me, on the most part, to meander about the home and garden. Trips up to the shop for more juices and ice. I have enjoyed a constant supply of orange, apple and pineapple juices mixed with water and tons of ice. Yes, those babies are very cool and Grace's Thai eyes light up when I enter the rooms swinging a big glass of orange about. She is desperate for the stuff, and I just gotta say this, it is pretty fucking delicious.
Don came over last night and we had a couple of Archa beers on the back porch. I got some new old Taj Mahall and Santana recently, so we enjoyed listening to that.
Watched this great docu on early black boxer Jack Johnson. It's called Unforgivable Blackness and it is well worth a watch.
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