Wednesday, March 6, 2013

palm to palm is holy palmer's kiss

"It's an intense place. And intense places have their beauty, and can be difficult at times."
-- Prof. Tamo Chattopadhay

I watched a family of pigeons waddle across the grassy square.
Pigeons are the most charming of animals while they are on the ground.
I feel as though they're, in their hearts, penguins. Birds who belong to the land.
When they take off flying, they become sort of bizarrely out-of-place. But, on the ground, they are adorably bumbling as they waddle all over the pavement like they own the place.
Just like human beings, they are most charming in their utter lack of self-consciousness as they go about their business.


In a city, you have to find a place for yourself.
In the midst of a city of millions, you have to find a spot that is yours alone, where you found your kingdom.
Sometimes, its in the midst of the busiest street in the city.
As I stood on Waterloo Bridge, my beloved Waterloo Bridge, and I couldn't help but feel tears prick my eyes.
There, in front of me, was St. Paul's, glorious in its monstrous greatness.
There was fog hanging above all the skyscrapers, kissing the tops of the buildings.
I could have stayed on that bridge forever.


You receive a lot of kisses in a lifetime.
All of them should be kisses of peace, but very few of them are. 
And the sign of peace, I've found, is always a strange sort of ritual.
It's either a cordial shaking of hands amongst friendly strangers and parishioners and acquaintances or an enthusiastic hug fest amongst college students. 
Both are lovely rituals. But somehow lack the umph that the kiss of peace is supposed to bring.

The sad elderly man took my hand, and grasped it warmly. He leaned over and kissed it gently.
I turned back towards the altar, tears filling my eyes.
I had never felt unworthier of receiving a kiss.

All the kisses of youthful crushes and girlish loves have begun to fade into distant memory.
But I can still feel the soft, gentle, meekness of that kiss of peace lingering on the back of my hand. 

“A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.”
― Ingrid Bergman

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