I watched them walk down the road for a long time. Or at least it seemed like a long time.
The mother and the child the mother held, standing, embracing one another across the road. I got closer to ask her name — Akashi like the sky.
It was but a brief conversation. “She wants a yoghurt,” said the mother. I would go on and they would go on. But the image lingers like many others of mothers and babes and they will not be forgotten.
These moments of pure joy we capture, in places I might never travel again.
Transient, ephemeral, these images flash across my thoughts, like the swift flight of a blue kingfisher in the garden at Hikkaduwa.