Tangy shades of tangerine were threaded by hand and left swinging above the Temple doorway. Across the grey waters of the Ganges, the saffron dust of petals dipped beneath the ripples and through the sloshy wet backstreets, crushed flowers lay with the memory of the early morning prayers. I was bought from a market and planted one day in the soil. I grew from this earth, travelled and bloomed in many places…. Read More