a yearning

for pol sambol.

dear sri lanka,

lately, you've been on my mind. there must be something in the air because everywhere i turn, i hear a haunting whisper that tickles every cell and blossoms into a festival of goosebumps. it follows me, begging me to come back home.

but sri lanka, lets be honest here - you were never home to me. i was mostly just a squatter. there with no permanence in mind. flying in and out for hot summers by the sea.

and that's why i find your behavior astonishing. and my reaction - terrifying. i can't seem to shake this feeling. i keep searching for your likeness in things that are fundamentally so un-like you. it's apposite though.

the older i get - the more i want to sink back into your lap and my past of smocked cotton dresses, papaya's on street corners and royal bakery runs.

2011 can't come soon enough. until then, taunt somebody else.

in fact, i will even recommend a few people who could use a little reminding of exactly where they came from :)

love,
the Canadian*


*for now.