Now a clear dot… now hazy… mixing with the clouds through and through, then beaming alone gloriously. Splattering moony clay, then rubbing it, greasing with it the deep dark sky.
Mirroring all the romantics and dream-talkers, the moony clay moulds itself to fit into the beholder’s eyes and patient hearts. It listens, nods and registers its reply with the artist.
Moony clay – an assiduous storyteller, slowly moving away – happily builds the wavy waves and like a sand clock shows the slipping time its way.
Singing joyously, dancing leisurely, the moony clay creates and fills the heart with hope, lost in splendour.
See how it re-shapes, re-writes its journey, certain of uncertainty in knowing… in knowing it all.
Images by Jagriti Rumi
- Essentially Gold, The Lavender Hill Mob
- The Source
- In The Sundarbans
- The Knight’s Missing But The Horse’s Here
- Temple Food