After returning from India, all those months ago, I wrote a blog reporting back for the British Council. They published it on their site, along with a video of a poem I wrote about Amarabati, a beautiful woman who invited me into her home and played the harmonia whilst singing classical Indian songs. I meant to post it here way back when but never got around to it. Having just returned from another trip, I have stumbled across this once again. I’d forgotten what it was I’d written, on re-reading I am struck by the similarities of how I have been feeling since my return from Sri Lanka last Saturday.
Travel is an antidote to writer’s block. It makes you realise how big the world is, so big.
It makes you see there are other ways of looking at the world, and makes you appreciate the worn places you had tired of. It renews creativity. It cleanses those cobwebs;
it makes you realise the world isn’t as narrow as you may have made it lately. There are so many other ways of living. Beautiful, colourful, chilled out ways of living.