Dear Sugar Plum,
Listen sugar plum, Galle, my dear, is beautiful. Have you ever imagined yourself in a far corner of an island? Where everything beautiful seems eternal. Where flowers bloom in funky pinks and palm trees sing songs to the green wind. Where it’s breezy and where it’s beachy.
Wake up early morning and once a while, go on a road trip! Drag your lazy bum to a quirky café. Have two egg benedicts with bacon, toast and avocado for breakfast with coffee so Peruvian. Freshly brewed coffee which makes you want to sit down and write poetry about hopeless love. Instead, admire the beauty of everyday life in the Fort – the foreigners in funky prints and old uncles trying to win a game of carom. Go on a walk. Admire little things. Take photos of serendipitously placed bicycles. Take photos of uncles, aunts and kids with funny faces. Take photos of strangers. Make friends with strangers. Walk. You will notice old buildings are aesthetic. You will notice that typography is important. You will notice art is life and art has life. Admire pot plants and plants with so little life. Take photos of street lights and pastel walls. Pastels so dreamy that you dream of living here every single day. And keep walking. Walk until you meet flowers so pink that you want to bend down and kiss them. Have vadai with fried chili like it’s the first time you ate it. Take photos of flowery doors and take photos of you. Admire your thick eyebrows. Your hair so curly and wavy and straight. You’re art. And darling, keep walking. Take photos of the lighthouse. Take one. Take two. Take many photos. You’ll notice palm trees are beautiful. Sea, sugar plum, is limitless. It’s nothing but it’s free. It’s wild. It’s beautiful. Walk back. Walk back to the main roads where everything is chaos. Admire the beauty of everyday life on streets. The hustle-bustle of a city life. Admire the beauty of people running to catch the commuter train. The beauty of wee kids running to their first tuition class which reminds you of you. Your innocent soul a few years back. “Kids, holy souls, run from the devil that’s unsustainable growth.” You scream so silent that no one hears. No one cares. Walk. Walk as you pass by aunties in half-worn sarees. Aunties with an unused masters. Take the bus to the beaches where hotels of all kind trying to top the money game. Don’t go there. Don’t walk in. Instead lie down on the softest sand. Watch the sea as she kisses the pebbled shore every single second. Write mind-poetry about you and your soulmate. She/he will find you. You will find them. Look at the sea. She has many blues. Admire her beauty. Her gifts – the sea shells. The serene. The love. Admire love. Write your name on sand. Paint hearts. Go to Unawatuna. Go to many beaches. Hunt them down. You’ll realize that Wijaya Beach has the softest sand. But Jungle Beach is where you sit down with a grilled, seasoned fish for lunch. Go to Talpe. Go to Dalawella. Galle is pretty. It’s not only quirky streets and white tuk tuks, it’s beautiful beaches, too. Love them. Cherish them all. Swing into the ocean. Trust the palm tree that holds the rope of your swing. Have faith. Watch how sun paints skies in many yellows and magentas. Watch how it paints the sky in violets before she goes to bed. Try to take bad pictures of the sunset. Have prawns and lobsters for dinner while you sip an iced mojito with pineapple. Sleep the night in a quirky little hostel. Once in awhile, admire the beauty of everyday things. Make memories. Because darling, you don’t need a plane ticket with $$$ to US of A to make memories. Life is everywhere. It’s how you make of it. Live it. Love it.
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