swallowed

Ive met quite a few people. Ive heard quite a few stories already. Some things have been foretold to me. Some others have been totally unexpected. I see their immediate effect on my body, I see myself changing. With every bracelet I tie to my wrist, with every wish I make, with every step I take to pass through the gateway of India, I am compromising myself with no way back. Im sure the gateway of India is what people call the Horacle of the South. Only if you believe in something you will survive. If you don't believe, if you don't have any wish, if you are not curious to understand you are gonna... I don't even know. I don't even care to tell. I am folliwing hidden paths. I found my first baba, and he sells flowers but gives the stories away for free as presents. I have been on a Bollywood set (this is for you Sophie and Mr. Urey) pretending to be an exhausted hostage in the Taj Mahal Hotel, scared to death by blokes in fake uniforms, running away in the corridors at the word "action!!!", screaming RUMPA RUMPA (the Swedish word for ass) and exchanging amazing stories with Marion on the steps of a run-down hotel where five years ago a couple of murders took place. We got five hundred rupees for 14 hours, equal to 5days' worth of wage of a taxi driver. The locals, with us foregneirs on the set, didnt even get the money, they just got offered a dinner. I tell you what, fuck Bollywood! They could suck my fucking dick! When Mr David Vann was talking about responsibilities when you work in the industry, well I guess this could be a nice example. I rather prefer to meet the crazy artist that tells me that WORLD stands for Walking, Organizing, Reproducing, Lord, Dying. The meaning of life for dummies. And for geniuses as well. Thats all you need to know. The street is hard. It keeps you there. Chained. Squeezed. Under the sun and the rain. Crammed in between zillions of people. Washing clothes besides your neighbour's corpse. But that's natural. Cause the road leads you to different cultures, it smacks you in the face once, twice, and wait a minute, here is the third. You can fall in love on the road, real quick. I mean real quick. Woow. And then you have to go. No, I don't want your fucking drum! Wait, I just wanted to...yeah, one more hour, a few more words. But sometimes you are on a schedule. And it's gone. It takes strength. When you dont have anything to eat. When you are dirty and sweated. And there is dirt for miles and miles, piled up. The ocean is as dirty but at least is big and you can breath. But deep in the urban jungle of humanity you have to pay even for breathing. But all the roads eventually lead somewhere. And thats exactly where you are bound to. I have no plans, except for a train tonight, southwards bound. I have no real questions to ask. I am fucking eager to listen. Listening is much more important for me now. You take what you need. I take what I need. Right and wrong are almost meaningless. Just and unjust...well, it can be painstaking to define. Appropriate is a really nice concept though. Peace and love. Life is fun, fuck everyone! A teenager has just taught me this. Over.