Giridhari appears on this and future Fridays swirling to the sound of his flute contemplating the lotus feet of Gandharvika. The purple and pink halos that rise from the divine dance that holds even the lord of the universe in trance. The garlands shed petals and spread on all who observe this most internal play. When folks here me speaking like this they all shout the name of this one "Shut up kid"
Who would want a Ferrari, Lomborgini or a 'Vette if he had a carbon fiber trek in his stable? Who would choose to spend money on 'petrol' (ha ha) if he could pedal just like Lance? All along the east cliff to the harbor and on past the theater to the gecko's wheel rounding the turn to where the bus drops the tiny tinies off at school. The cruiser king waits on the left and then there comes Mr. Charlie, who uses organic produce. The redone road takes me between the lakes and the windmill. Down with the sunny cove on the right then up to the opal cliff and the wharf road. From there it's time for the vaikalika service.
In the evening they put on their white Chinese silk with little branches and green silk given by one of the folks and dance away into the jungle for a night of loving pastimes.