Auld accomplices

Aj in his corner in Chiang Mai, where he's hiding from the Korean winter. It's been a long time, almost five years since we last saw each other in Varanasi. 

It brings up occasional thoughts, these friendships which formed from travelling and which have survived the erosions of time and distance. 

As I write Jens is messaging me. We met on the train through the badlands of Bihar, on the way from Puri to Varanasi, where we met aj upon the ghats, clutching his guitar. And before that another train, late night in a desolate station in Slovakia, unwelcome bananas, a missed connection to Krakow, Katowice in the pre dawn gloom, coffee and vodka under a tree, a late train and a bad room, watching a series of dawns rise across the railway station from a small food shack while a sequence of nighthawks arrive, have food or beer, lingering long enough to offer us fragments of their stories before they evaporate into the morning light creeping across the waking city...


And aj in his wee nook with his guitar.