When the devotees went to that famous murtiwalla to pick up this dress they’d ordered months before and saw it wasn’t what they had asked for. The shop owner had these words to say “Silk saris with pure gold thread, twelve piece mukuts on their heads. Cashmere chodders so fine they can pass them through their rings. Stack the diamonds up and all around they buy them by the pound. And do you do? I want to know, and then you expect to get the outfit the way you want? No guarantee that’s what I’ll give! Oh come here and watch how the money talks! Talk, talk, talk see what happens when you let your money talk.”
The leis of roses, leaves, petals and carnations with gerbera daisies in the center set them off just right.
The tree once again has let the sunshine in and so all us pedalers have gone off through the village and by the wharf up the hill to the opal cliff and then to the point of the hook. Around the fruit market to the soccer pitch then backtrack to the street parallel to the big road. Joining the big road to the long and windy one where the tree warned me of the wind today and on for the vaikalika service
Baby blue, yeah that’s what you can call this nightdress, he’s got a name for every other dress. Even the holy places have names like where the Ganga doesn’t flow is called the Radhadesa. He called the last Monday nightdress the grateful dvip.