March in Hyderabad Every so often I wish I were born In a simpler age (as if there ever were one) when one could lose oneself in the beauty of the purple haze offered by the lace-like blossoms smudged across the blue summer sky as I battle my way to work through the emissions of an information economy on the move. One wonders where the sentence breaks to accommodate the parenthetical pause for noticing such moments of transcendence in the midst of everything ongoing, never stopping (lest the traffic lights change on you). Big words like Climate Change Global Inequality Sustainable Development Communal Violence are allowed to fade somewhat into the background as the bright yellows and flaming oranges of the flowering trees demand that we retain despite those Everythings a capacity for happiness.
making sense of the everyday