On Sri Lanka

The country-island with palm fronds and cotton candy skies, childishly colored by blues and greens. The cross-legged bhudas on every street corner, decked in golds and whites. how can you be angry when god is everywhere. the tumbling sea always a quiet moment away. we lounge by the waves, yelping in the hot sands, and dodging the beach dogs that sniff our feet. a soccer match with a pack of shirtless British boys who called me beautiful, and wagered whether I was from Pakistan or India. Ayurveda clinics and souvenirs shops line the stretch to the south. Galle, where we halted atop the fort and signaled out to the ships parked at sea and the sentimental cricket ground below that made my chest well, and the huge ceiling of blue and the history that knocked on every brick we passed, the tourist town with its quaint, stark white shops and tidy stalls with masks and pebbles and homemade icecream. Hikaduwa beach, crowded and sweaty, but an old man offers me his seat and a coconut to drink out of. And speaking of, fresh pineapples taste of sindri mangoes. coconut water fresh from the pod everyday, and walking in the sweltering heat with an umbrella, like the locals, to traipse about my own. i buy two packets of sambar masala and vow to bring sri lanka to islamabad. i hunt down the Odels and the cotton stores, and the elephant house that had no mammals but did great icecream. the gangaramaya temple had me trembling, and wondering how much cleaner it would've been as a mosque. water bodies splattered everywhere,  labelled as ponds. only making the days push by hotter. searching for the flash storms that came and disappeared traceless into the night. burning my feet on the sun-warmed concrete, mount lavinia and white sand beaches with watermelon juice and the most mystical sunset i've ever met.

Some pictures: