The trouble is that once you see it, you can't unsee it. And once you've seen it, keeping quiet, saying nothing, becomes as political an act as speaking out. There's no innocence. Either way, you're accountable.
Arundhati RoyHe could do only one thing at a time. If he held her, he couldn't kiss her. If he kissed her, he couldn't see her. If he saw her, he couldn't feel her.
Arundhati RoyTag: love-hurts
Quella prima notte, il giorno dell'arrivo di Sophie Mol, Velutha guardò la sua amante che si rivestiva. Quando fu pronta, Ammu si accovacciò di fronte a lui. Lo toccò leggermente con le dita e lasciò una traccia di pelledoca sulla pelle. Come un gesso morbido sulla lavagna. Come la brezza in una risaia. Come le scie dei jet in un cielo celeste da chiesa. Lui le prese il viso tra le mani e lo attirò verso il suo. Chiuse gli occhi e le annusò la pelle. Ammu rise.
Sì, Margaret, pensò. Lo facciamo anche fra noi.
Baciò gli occhi chiusi di Velutha e si alzò. Velutha, con la schiena appoggiata al mangostano, la guardò andar via.
Aveva una rosa secca tra i capelli.
Si girò per dirlo un'altra volta: "Naaley".
Domani.
Tag: amore
Flat muscled and honey coloured. Sea secrets in his eyes. A silver raindrop in his ear.
Arundhati RoyTag: imagination love thoughts
The trees were still green, the sky still blue, which counted for something. So they went ahead and plugged their smelly paradise - God's Own Country they called it in their brochures - because they knew, those clever Hotel People, that smelliness, like other peoples' poverty, was merely a matter of getting used to. A question of discipline. Of Rigor and Air-conditioning. Nothing more.
Arundhati RoyFlags are bits of colored cloth that governments use first to shrink-wrap people’s brains and then as ceremonial shrouds to bury the dead. When independent-thinking people (and here I do not include the corporate media) begin to rally under flags, when writers, painters, musicians, film makers suspend their judgment and blindly yoke their art to the service of the “Nation,” it’s time for all of us to sit up and worry.
Arundhati RoyThey looked at each other. They weren't thinking anymore. The time for that had come and gone. Smashed smiles lay ahead of them. But that would be later. Lay Ter.
Arundhati RoyTag: love passion dreams courage sex lust
What came for them? Not death. Just the end of living.
Arundhati RoyOur dreams have been doctored.We belong no where. We sail unanchored on troubled seas.We may never be allowed ashore. Our sorrows will never be sad enough. Our joys never happy enough. Our dreams never big enough. Our lives never important enough. To matter..
Arundhati RoyHe couldn't see her, sitting outside in the darkness, looking in at the light. A pair of actors trapped in a recondite play with no hint of plot or narrative. Stumbiling through their parts nursing someone else’s sorrow. Grieving someone else’s grief. Unable somehow to change plays. Or purchase, for a fee some cheap brand of exorcism from a conveyor with a fancy degree, who would sit them down and say in one of many ways: “ Your not the sinners. You’re the sinned against. You were only children.You had no control. You are the victims, not the perpetrators.” It would of helped if they could of made that crossing. If only they could have worn, even temporarily, the tragic hood of victim hood
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