Excerpt from my Travel Memoir

The road south from Colombo can be a bit confusing, somehow even if you scan the map for a long time it doesn’t register. From Colombo to Moratuwa is only 19 Km. From there you expect Kalutara to come quickly but it takes longer than you think for it is about 26 Km further south. In Kalutara is the famous Buddhist temple. You expect Beruwela with its beautiful seascape to be very far from here but it comes surprisingly quickly being just 14 Km south. By this time the landscape has a very rural seaside feel. Happily, Bentota with its beautiful beaches, river, and hotels is just 8 Km South. Then here the distances seem to widen. From Bentota to Ambalangoda is 24 Km, somehow it seems longer than that. Hikkaduwa, a tourist destination known for coral reefs and sea turtles is 15 Km further south. By this time even without noticing we have come 114 Km from Colombo. Till Hikkaduwa, the coast that runs more or less south seems to curve a little more prominently till it reaches the Historic fort city of Galle. The coast continues to curve until it reaches the southernmost city in Sri Lanka – Matara. Then it moves upward reaching Tangalle and Hambantota, Kirinda, Kumana, Okanda and then almost vertically up to Potuvil, Tirrukkovil and Batticaloa. Very rarely if ever have I heard some of these place names in the news so I tried to find out. Kumana is a bird sanctuary, Okanda is a small hamlet on the eastern coast of Sri Lanka, within the Ampara district.

In Sri Lanka most of the main cities and towns in the coastal region are quite well known, some parts of the central highlands are well travelled, Anradhapura and Pollonaruwa being historical cities are well known, but some Kilometers inland from the coast there are some obscure areas that hardly come to mind, except for the people who live there. I wondered if we travelled perpendicular to the coast in the above route I mentioned from Colombo to Batticaloa what obscure areas will we discover. And then I looked at the map, what a fool I had been, for this is exactly where they have built the new southern expressway. Travelling in the southern expressway you find that the landscape is mostly fields and jungles with very few buildings.

Somewhere between Beruwela and Hikkaduwa I had an incredible experience, a kind of perfect moment that comes very rarely in life. I got down from the bus shocked by the color of the sea. It was around midday, and the sun shone brightly overhead. The color of the sea was a shockingly bright turquoise blue and it was glistening and I was alone on an enormous beach. A song started playing on my mind: We’ll sing in the sunshine….We’ll laugh every day…..We’ll sing in the sunshine ……then I’ll be on my way. Some HAPPY sounding songs are actually depressing….and some sad sounding songs are Happy…..But this was a Happy sounding Happy song at least for me despite its silly rhyming lyrics.

There are some places with beautiful scenery that ought to make you happy…but make you sad….similarly there are some really ugly landscapes that fill you with joy…..Well, this was a Happy-looking place that actually made you happy. I walked on the beach, I climbed the rocks, it was for me the most perfect spot on earth. After about an hour it was time to be on my way. I wondered whether if I came another day at the exact same time I would find the sea the same glistening turquoise blue and the beach deserted. I came again a few times but could not locate the beach again. As the actor, Leonard Nimoy (Mr. Spock in Star Trek) said in his last message “A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory.”

Excerpt from my Travel Book

 

Because I had gone to Nuwara Eliya in November, I found it was off-season and intensely cold. After tea I went to a hotel. The owner was inquisitive to know why I was traveling and I explained my philosophy of travel. I said I was traveling all around the country using only public transport and I wanted to draw or paint everything I came across. He looked at me like I was from another planet.

But the great train journey uphill had aroused my interest in Surrealism so I started to draw my first surrealist drawing. Surrealism is an odd thing. Everyone accepts that something illogical has no value, but the objective of this Surrealist movement is exactly this – to create unnerving, illogical scenes with the objective of freeing the unconscious. Nothing less. Amazed by what I saw in the hill country, I drew a landscape following the strange theories of the Surrealists. It was an enthralling experience. In an attempt to draw realistic and impressive drawings and avoid mistakes, the artist sometimes loses the thrill of drawing and painting...His output drops...But in this new Surrealist method I invented, mistakes are modified or left as they are to make the drawing more energetic. The artist finds the true purpose of art - to express oneself and be happy...I felt incredibly proud of my first Surrealist drawing, it really had freed, if not my unconscious, at least some of my creativity. So I took my drawing to show the owner, and all he could say was, “What the hell is this?” Damned if I knew.

But that was nothing compared to my experiences in selling drawings. Many years ago, I came up with a novel way of drawing. For me Art has always been synonymous with magic, so one day I wondered whether there was some theory that, when applied, would lead to interesting paintings or drawings. Unfortunately there seemed to be no such theory, for some reason some paintings are pleasing while others fail to satisfy the mind. But I didn’t want to give up so easily. So I analyzed the paintings of famous artists and found that the most interesting paintings had an element of crudeness in them. Take Vincent Van Gogh’s “The Church at Auvers” for example, the whole building is crooked and the colors unnatural. But what would have happened if he painted it straight using natural colors, then it would be like a million other architectural drawings, competent but boring. This was good news for me because I was one of those people in this world who is too lazy or too incompetent to draw buildings perfectly. I felt that the real secret behind a really good painting was a certain crudeness mingled cleverly with a really impressive element. The impressive element makes the painting realistic, while the crudeness energizes the painting or drawing making the whole painting interesting.

I used this theory to paint and came up with some eerie paintings. Part of my technique involved random squiggles, particularly for the sky, which I called energy lines. Apart from the energy they added they helped balance the composition which I think is crucial in any drawing. The next step was to find someone to sell it to. At that time, I was attending a tuition class to pass an exam, but the people there were not the kind who would buy a drawing. But there was a certain intelligent person who took the trouble to have creative conversations with me. She was much older than the others, and said she also had a law degree, and had an intellectual air to her, which made her an ideal candidate to sell my drawing to. So I talked about the subject and showed her the drawing, hoping to charge only a small amount because it was my first sale. She was immediately repulsed. She took the drawing and turned it sideways and then upside down and looked at me in a weird way that some people reserve for particularly stupid people. I was shocked, why I wondered was she turning it upside down, after all it was one of my best landscape drawings with energy lines for the sky. Then she said "I don't know whether it is upside down or not, but after framing it make sure you display it the wrong way to the wall so nobody can see it. The next day when I came to class, I could see other people looking at me in a strange way and knew that she mentioned the incident to others. All the drawing contained was bloody buildings and energy lines. I decided never to try to sell a drawing again.

But then another person approached me and asked me whether I did artwork. I reluctantly said yes. He wanted me to paint a landscape with trees and sunlight, for which he will pay me. I agreed and did an acrylic painting on canvas and sold it to him for a big loss (25 percent of material cost) because I was eager to make a name to start selling. He paid me readily enough and took it home. But three days later he bought it back and wanted his money back. He said the painting (of sunlight, mist and trees), was not clear enough (Pehidily madi). I never tried to sell a painting again.

Short Story

During World War II my grandfather had been stationed as an officer in the then British colony of Ceylon. It would have made a great impression on him for he spoke about it for fifteen years when I was growing up. Great stories of holy mountains, rock fortresses, and ancient kingdoms with the most advanced irrigation systems in the world. For many years I thought he was making most of it up, but it intrigued me. So one day I finally decided to visit the Island to find out if he was telling the truth.

The Airport is about 30 Kilometers from the capital Colombo. Colombo borders the sea and its port is one of the busiest in Asia. In the lower central part of the country, there is a mountainous area where tea is grown so abundantly that it looks more like a picturesque painting than an actual mountain. There really is a holy mountain here called Sri Pada which is said to be the holiest mountain in the world. And the Sigiriya Rock fortress built in the 5th century is one of the marvels of the ancient world. And the great Tank Civilization of ancient Sri Lanka is still being used today to irrigate. I was amazed to find out everything my Grandfather said was true, this really is a great Island.

But the most interesting aspect of this island is the people. Although I do not have a degree in psychology I have a strange habit of analyzing the people in every country I go to, so I would do the same here. Sri Lankans in general are very friendly and very intelligent. But for an intelligent people they do not think deeply about some things that trouble at least a small minority in some other counties, like for example: how was the universe created? Are there things smaller than atoms? Are we related to monkeys? This kind of thinking is absent even among highly educated scientists who are qualified to answer these questions. But even here there is an extremely small minority of people who think of such things, but unfortunately, they are so rare that you could spend an entire lifetime without meeting one.

But I did meet such a person on the island and he was the clerk in the hotel. “Aren’t you Carl Saban the famous American astronomer, and the world authority on supernovas?” said he. “Yes,” said I a little surprised that someone here knew me. “I’ve been reading the articles you write, they are interesting and I have used your observations to verify my theories, theories that I think solve all the problems of the universe, including how it was created, and I have written it down in this book, it would only take a few minutes to read, can you tell me whether it is correct,” said he. He took out of his pocket a much-crumbled book that looked like it had been slept on. For a moment I could not decide whether he was just joking or completely mad, but he thrust the book at me so fervently that I reluctantly took it.

I present below just the first two pages of his book, exactly as he wrote it without any modification by me:

Everything is made up of atoms, but atoms themselves are made up of even smaller particles. Even though our senses fool us we and everything around us are energy fields. The movement of these tiny energy particles moves electrons, atoms, aero-planes, stars, galaxies and everything else in the universe. These tiny particles and their ability to move are the only reality in the universe and other things such as Time or Space are not real and are how the mind perceives the movement of these particles.

According to this theory, there is nothing called space, three-dimensional or otherwise, for when these particles move, as they always do it creates this illusion in our senses. There is nothing to fill, for there is nothing else. Similarly, there is no dimension called Time, this is what the mind perceives when these particles move, but it isn't real, for there isn't anything separate called Time. If there is nothing called Time then the universe could not have been created at a particular point in time in the past, this solves the mystery of creation. These particles would have always been and will always be.

So how does this explain Singularity, or what is popularly known as the Big Bang? If matter were to lose its ability to move, it would converge to a point infinitely small, but soon the deep tendency to move would lead it to expand outward, which would eventually form Stars, planets, Galaxies and everything else that is in the Universe. How does this explain Gravitation? It has been found that when a sub-atomic particle was moved another particle that was seven miles away moved in exactly the same way, and it has been estimated that however far these particles are separated they would move exactly in the same way. This is strange for nothing moves faster than the speed of Light. This twin movement could be used to explain Gravitation, for if a particle were to move, its twin particle would move towards it.

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The rest of the book contains calculations to prove this theory, which I can’t fully understand, but which seem profound all the same. Can somebody tell me by reading this book whether this young man in Sri Lanka is, in fact a great scientist or a little wrong in the head?

James Fenimore Cooper

 

James Fenimore Cooper (1789-1851), was a United States author. He is Chiefly remembered for his Leatherstocking series of novels about Indians and frontiersmen, but he also wrote tales of the sea and other books. Cooper was the first American author to win wide popularity in Europe. He did more than any other writer to create the theme of the crafty but noble Redskin pitted against the equally resourceful woodsman.

Mark Twain and others ridiculed Cooper for his impossibly wooden heroines, his unreal dialogue and plots involving miraculous escapes from dangerous situations. Much of the criticism is justified, but Coopers skill in weaving an exciting tale and picturing a romantic woodland background has helped his books remain popular.

Cooper was born in Burlington, New Jersey, the second youngest in a Quaker family of 12. When he was one year old, the family moved to the shore of the Otsego Lake in western New York. There his father founded the village of Cooperstown. Young Cooper soon became acquainted with the Indians and the forests of the region. He entered Yale College at 13, but was dismissed in his third year for playing a prank. He went to sea as a common sailor in 1806, and in 1808 he received a commission as midshipman in the navy.

His dissatisfaction with an English novel provoked him to say he could write a better one. Precaution (1820), an imitative society novel, was the result of his wife’s demand for proof. It was unsuccessful. In 1821 Cooper published The Spy at his own expense. This romance of the American Revolution made him famous on both sides of the Atlantic and caused him to be called the equal of Sir Walter Scott as a historical novelist.

Edgar Allan Poe

 

Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849), was an American short-story writer, poet, critic, and editor. There has always been disagreement as to the quality of his work, and some of the events of his life. However, even those critics who do not consider him a great writer acknowledge his importance in the development of modern literature.

Poe's most popular stories are those of horror, such as "The Fall of the House of Usher" and "The Black Cat," and of detection, such as "The Gold Bug" and "The Murders in Rue Morgue." Among his well-known lyrical poems are the haunting "Ulalume," "The Raven," and "Annabel Lee," and the classically restrained "To Helen." Poe was one of the most brilliant and independent 19th-century literary critics. His emphasis on artistic rather than moral values in literature greatly influenced modern literary theory and practice. His stressing of poetry's musical elements, and his use of evocative and symbolic language and imagery, contributed to the rise of the French Symbolist movement in poetry and, through it, to various 20th-century trends in poetry.

Poe was the first to formulate rules for the short story, and the principles of brevity and unity that he advocated have influenced short-story writing in the present time. He is credited with inventing the modern detective story and bringing the Gothic horror tale to a high level of development. He enriched both types of stories with psychological insight. Poe's preoccupation with madness, death, and the supernatural, and his denial of the importance of moral values in literature, were bitterly criticized during his lifetime and for some years afterward. More valid from a literary standpoint was the objection - still made by many critics - that some of his works are too contrived.

Edgar Poe was born in Boston, the second of the three children of Davis and Elizabeth Poe, traveling actors. When Edgar was two years old his mother died in Richmond, Virginia; their father had previously deserted the family. Egar was taken into the home of John Allan, a merchant, from whom the boy took his middle name. The Allan's lived in England from 1815 to 1820, where Edgar attended private schools. He later attended a Richmond academy. Poe entered the University of Virginia in1826, but at the end of the year, Allan withdrew him because Poe had run up large gambling debts. After a quarrel with his foster father, Poe went to Boston in 1827. There he published anonymously his first volume of poetry, Tamerlane and Other Poems. He enlisted in the army and served for two years. In 1829 he published his second book of poems. The same year his foster mother died and Poe became briefly reconciled with his foster father, who got him an appointment to the U.S. Military Academy in 1830. Poe cut classes and drills and was expelled from the Academy early in 1831. His break with Allan was final.

In 1831 Poe lived in New York City for a short while and published Poems. It contained many of his best poems, including "To Helen," "The City and the Sea," and "Israfel." Poe then went to live with his aunt Mrs. Maria Clemm in Baltimore. He turned to the writing of fiction and did not publish another book of poetry for 14 years. In 1833 he won a prize for the story "Manuscript Found in a Bottle." Poe went back to Richmond in 1835 and joined the staff of the Sothern Literary Messenger, soon becoming its editor. Poe won wide attention for his critical reviews in the Messenger.

In 1837 Poe moved to New York, but unable to find work there, moved again to Philadelphia, where he became editor of Burton's Gentleman's Magazine (1839-40). Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque were published in 1840 and favorably reviewed. Poe was the literary editor of Graham's Magazine for a few months in 1841 and in it began to publish detective stories. Poe won another prize with "The Gold Bug" (1843), which became his most popular story during his lifetime. He returned to New York and became assistant editor of the Mirror. The publication of The Raven and Other Poems in 1845 brought him increased fame. For a few months, he was the owner of the Broadway Journal, but the periodical failed.

Poe's wife died of tuberculosis in 1847, and he became depressed and ill. He became emotionally involved with two women and attempted suicide. During his last years, however, he wrote some of his best poems and critical essays. He also published Eureka (1848), a philosophical work. Poe became engaged to a childhood sweetheart in Richmond in 1849. He then went to Baltimore to bring his aunt back for the wedding. A few days later he was found fatally ill in a tavern in Baltimore. The legend that Poe was an opium addict and wastrel is contradicted by the facts of his predominantly quiet and hard-working life. He was an alcoholic, but his claim that he drank to alleviate periods of intense depression was partly upheld by physicians who examined him and said he had a brain lesion. In 1910 Poe was elected to the Hall of Fame for Great Americans.

Sri Lanka - Oil Pastel and Water Colour

 

Factory at Sunset - Oil Pastel

 

The Sea

 

The sea has its secrets
It never told me what
But when the waves broke ashore
I guessed what it was

For in the gleaming water
Swim creatures great and small
Life's deep blue ocean
The secret is out

RJX

Pen on paper

 

The Lightning Machine

 

My paternal uncle (father's brother), was once a world-famous scientist and inventor, but now nobody took him seriously. For all his brilliance if two words could be used to describe him they would be Extremely Eccentric. He had the strange habit of suddenly asking a physics question in the middle of a normal conversation and you were liable to get scolded if you did not give a satisfactory answer. For this reason some people including many of his former colleagues avoided him. Some said it was old age encroaching, some said it was an illness of the mind caused by chemical experiments when he was younger.

But apart from this eccentricity he was a kind and friendly man and as much as I avoided him I could not help feeling guilty so one day I went and met him. "Oh there you are at last, you numbskull, you have been avoiding me for one month" said he. "I had my exams, but it was all in vain for they asked questions from just the part of the syllabus that I avoided" said I. "Serves you right, now tell me how the Universe was created" said he. "Well according to the Big Bang theory it all started as an infinitely small primeval atom, and it expanded to form the stars, planets, galaxies and everything else in the universe. But what the theory does not explain is how the primeval atom came to be in the first place and what was there before that" said I

"That’s right, it doesn't explain it, but I found the answer for that too, though it is a secret and I don't want to tell it to you right now. But I have something interesting to show you look out of the window" said he. Outside was an enormous metal tower, and a field of what looked like huge batteries. "The world is facing an energy crisis, economies have fallen because of it and it is only going to get worse, but I solved that problem through this invention. Look what happens when I press this switch" said he. As he pressed the switch there was a crackling sound and within minutes dark clouds appeared over the tower. Soon it turned into a terrible thunderstorm. "You see Thomas this tower has a charge that attracts lightning, which leads to a chain reaction that causes thunderstorms" said he. Soon lightning discharged in the tower almost continuously making an ear splitting noise. "Cant you see what's happening Thomas, I am converting the static charge in the lightning into chemical energy in the field batteries which is then used to make an electric current that could be used by people” said he.

Two weeks later I returned and to my utter dismay he asked “What do you know of the theory of relativity”. “Well uncle according to it time is relative and not absolute. The faster you move the slower time passes for you. As you approach the speed of light Time stops” said I. “But what has the speed of light to do with time, you pinhead” said he. “I do not know though I have often wondered” said I. “No you idiot, Light and other electromagnetic waves move at the speed of light and even in a stationery object the small particles that make it move at the speed of light. But when the whole object moves the need to move is compensated so the small particles that make up the object move correspondingly slower making it look like time moves slower for it. But when I tell this theory to other scientists they call me a nut” said he.

“But uncle don’t worry about it, for your lightning machine will make you famous, nobody ever figured out the way to make electricity from lightning,” said I. My uncle’s face darkened as I said this and he said “That’s where the problem is Thomas, I can’t present my invention to the world for it would be misused. Imagine what a superpower could do if it got its hand on my invention. It could even be used as a weapon. I don't want my invention to be used to kill people, So I decided to destroy it, in fact I already have” said he. My uncle died two months later, I think of a broken heart because he had to destroy his precious invention. I do not know if his theory of the universe was correct but I know that he was the greatest scientist nobody ever talked about.

RJX

If you make a friend of time

If you make a friend of time

It wouldn't matter that you have no dime

For waves that break in the mangrove beach

Will pull your ship from that sinking reef

If the lighthouse is afar

And a misty fog blocks the North star

Follow the seagulls to the left

Or north or south whichever is best

A starfish near the beach

May swim away beyond your reach

But a crab that moves sideways

May even wish you better days

An oyster that pricks your feet

Could have a pearl on some distant beach

A raft that is blown to sea

Will reach the Island of Serendib

RJX

The Robot

 

Toko built the Yamomoto 2000 (a robot that did household chores) and sold it to a major manufacturer. The Yamamoto 2000 was a top-selling robot which made Toko rich. But unfortunately Toko was a careless spendthrift and after two years was left in abject poverty. So he built the Yamomoto 2012, which used Artificial Intelligence. Unfortunately during this period technology had moved so fast that Toko, who was a free lance designer, could no longer compete. There was a time when science was the purview of individuals who were usually not educated but were creative, From Galileo Galilee to Edison and almost all scientists in between fell into this category, but as science moved towards the infinitely small and infinitely big individuals were left behind. Now the only people who could come up with a major discovery were well-trained scientist, often working together for a large organisation, using the most advanced tools, and with a profit motive. Toko tried to sell his invention but he could not compete, so the Robot stood idle in the container that he lived, and was used only to take the dog for a walk. But one day Toko decided to connect Yamamoto 2012 to the internet. He put a special circuit so the robot could make sense of the words and pictures in the internet. The robot used Artificial intelligence, where it interacts with the environment and learns and improves, sometimes from its own mistakes. But however sophisticated it is a robot does not have a consciousness or will so it is not dangerous. Yamomoto 2012 surfed the internet from morning to night, and tried to make sense of what is essentially an endless array of both useful and useless information. But one day a strange thing happened. The trillions of Bites or information or knowledge it processed somehow came close to number of neurons in a human brain, and roughly matched the way the human brain worked. In millions of computers across Japan strange messages started to appear. Many people thought it was a harmless virus sent by a hack.

I am the Prime Minister of Japan and as I transmit this message the building shook as if an enormous hammer hit the ground nearby, but let me continue with this message.

What happened after that is what belies logic, phones started to ring all across Japan in the middle of the night, but when answered there was only a strange beeping noise. Computers switched themselves on and could not be switched off. All electronic and electrical items started behaving in the most erratic and strange manner. Traffic lights malfunctioned in such a meaningless way that Tokyo was clogged in traffic jams. Then the lights went out all over Japan, but the electronic items continued to function. There were several air crashes as radar and other equipment failed.

Wait there goes that thud again only this time it is louder, now it sounds like an earthquake, but let me continue,

There have been rumors that car plants are used to make robots that look like Yamomoto 2012, but who operates them is still not clear. Chaos has rained in every part of Japan, but it is not clear what exactly is happening. The security forces have reported that strange robots charge towards them in the most annoying manner, but of course this is no major threat since these robots are only three feet tall, but still it only deepens the mystery. I wonder why General Takahiro didn't contact me, he should report every hour but we lost contact with him for the past 8 hours. We are in an underground facility which is safe, but of course there is no major threat.

Communication with the outside world has come to an end, so I am transmitting in this emergency frequency, hoping that someone outside will receive it. I wonder whether this problem is encountered in other countries, for we are all connected by the communication network.

That noise, terrible, louder than ever, it shook the whole building, something heavy fell nearby. I am going up to see what it is.

My god what the hell is this, there are more than forty metal structures each at least two miles high, and they all look a lot like Yamomoto 2012, and are able to walk briskly in a terrifying way, they seem to have spotted us, I wonder what their intentions aaaarrrrrrrrr............

RJX

I am RRR

 

I am RRR, living in the land of Serendib, where my father lived and before that his father, and though some men deny that we belong here, my link with this land both in time and space is infinite, for this is what the ocean told me and the ocean is older than any man or anything else living or dead.

But once I foolishly contemplated this problem, day after day and night after night I fell to thinking........ until one night the phosphorescent ocean beckoned me to the shore and spoke to me in a language I seemed to know well......... I saw glimpses of a different time and a different place.......I saw the land of unattained hopes where the dreams of men appeared once and disappeared never to be seen again........... The ocean seemed to have sensed my sadness for it took me to the land of ZAAAA…... where men were so clever that I foresaw great progress.....they I felt would build a city whose peaks would touch the moon.......but when I returned in time....... half a century later all I saw was an impoverished, miserable land.......... for the men though very clever were selfish and jealous of their fellow beings...... they had suppressed each other............

Although my ancestors had lived here, I no longer felt like living here for I longed for the lands beyond where the sun shone differently, and men thought differently. I heard from men who sailed the seven seas of a land to the west of calm beaches and great cities so high that men never set sight upon their peaks.

Day after day and night after night I dreamed and the ocean which was silent until then spoke again in the kind language that I seemed to know well, of a land to the west called the land of NOR where the sun shone so gently that there were four wonderful seasons, all of them colder than the coldest days in Serendib, where men were so orderly that they needed no laws. As I gazed under a yellow moon the ocean parted and gave me glimpses of this land of order, that needed no laws for the men were sane, perhaps too sane for I thought I saw a land of despair, a land where boredom prevailed, a frightful emptiness, a secret death wish, but before I could say anything the ocean took me to another land.

This was the great land of CAN where men fled and sought refuge in an earlier, darker time, but could never return home again. This then I decided was the land of hope, where a better life could be sought a land of wealth where men achieved what they desired. But it was a dreary, cold land, where the sun barely shone, and men worked continuously like machines. Happiness here could only be found in money for there was nothing else. The trees here looked monotonously dull, much like the sun.

The sea seemed to have sensed the blow this dealt to my illusions for it took me to a land where the sun shone hot. This was a land of unimagined wealth, of great sunny cities, where the land was blessed with gold that was black, and great men walked about proudly in robes. But then I saw a glimpse of a man's hand being severed for stealing a loaf of bread, while the great men pretended to lead pious lives. Then I saw a women being stoned to death and I knew it was a land I will never visit.

Then the ocean showed me the land of the poor, for it had been ruined by its own rulers. But it was also a land where the sun shone brighter when it shone and it rained harder when it rained, and anything planted on the ground would flourish. The people though sad now were once happy, perhaps they will be happy again, and I recognized it as my own land. This was a land where Time was on my side or at least so I hoped, and I decided never to leave it again.

RJX

In memory of many days that were happy

In memory of many days that were happy

And some that were sad

From an Island I was born in

I don’t feel so bad

This ain’t no New Zealand

This ain’t no France

But if I had to choose again

I’ll always choose my land

On her quiet beaches

On her restless sands

Some men call her thoughtful

Some men call her mad

But I’ll only remember her mountains

And her precious sands

Trees that seem to talk to me

Birds that sing I can

I only hear what I want to hear

I only see good things

Time here ticks to her own beat

The birds here always sing

RJX

It is better to have drawn and lost than never to have drawn at all