Written by Samantha and Kilani’s group member: Sam Ronis
Patan. Linen sky. Pastel houses coated in pinks, blues, greens. They sit on slanted slopes, most of them unfinished so the bare bones stare back at you, rooms without walls. There is dust, yellow ash, but i welcome it as a source of movement. Clothes hang on the balconies, the shirts turned inside out on their bellies, waiting for the sun to dry them. Alex Dimitrov – i found you in a bookstore in New York – you say we are together and then we are by ourselves. How true. There is a grey dog i pass on my way home. He sleeps on our street, silently, legs outstretched. Last night, with my homestay sister, we watched as a woman lowered a bucket full of rice for him – the string threading through her hands. He picked it up gently. together and by Ourselves. I get lost here often. I see CJ smiling in the mornings, warmth. Loulie runs in circles, on the roof, her excitement busting in vivid flashes. Rory sips her tea, hands tight around a silver mug. Soft. Together and by ourselves. A linen sky, a pastel road, the dust will swallow me whole and i am thankful for it. This is movement, i believe. Not alone. Not without the dog. Not without the group. Not without my curved feet on rocky roads.