Panekuddah beach,, near Batticaloa
I’m in a Batti hotel room. The walls are green, the door is pink. There are orange flowers on the table. By the table a beer sits, unsipped. On the bed a girl sleeps, untouched. There are no further meanings, no ways or means. This is where I am. There are colors and sounds, fried fish on the grill. I can see the stars from so brightly, I feel the heat like a visceral soup, the air conditioning like sorbet.
I have been trying to figure out what day it is for a while now. I cannot recollect. I go swimming, as often as possible. I can’t hear anything underwater, I cannot see. The light refracts into blue, the body cools into green. Swim down two feet and you disappear, the body chills, the mind recedes. There is nothing to perceive, to talk about. Only breath, or the lack thereof. Off Eravur there are no waves, so I just swim. I just swim. I’m 200 meters offshore, I go further. I feel fear. I retreat.
I’m driving down the Kallady bridge, blasting Young Jeezy or Justice, feeling perceptibly cool. But I’m not. It’s hot as sin. I’m in an exotic place but I perceive nothing beyond my iPod. The election is over and I think someone won. It doesn’t register that much.