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Choreography in a boiling pot

Two cinnamon sticks dance a passionate duet. A choir of mixed colour pepper corals glide back and forth and around the cinnamon’s backs. The sticks form a valley. A new stage for two cloves to meet and butt crowns. A bay leaf floats towards the stage, like a curtain closing. It rests in the cleave between the cinnamon, pinning the cloves between leaf and wood.

Four slices of ginger float on the periphery, like balconies in a theater. 

Who’s watching... 

The heat has been turned out. 

The dancers slow down, their movements becoming more pronounced. 

From a steamy frenzy to a ballet to Bhutto to stillness. 

A tiny clove closes the act. Emerging from the hiding place beneath a ginger, swimming towards the bay leaf – rocking the island oh so gently.  Setting everything in motion once more.  


A ginger breaks out from the others and becomes a cloud, two slices turn towards her like wings … a flower blooming under water. 

A ginger arches above the dancers and stage... the sun going from east to west. 

The sun meets the crown of the little clove and rests there, like a halo. 

The boiling stops. I pour a cup of tea. 

 

Prophecy in a pot of tea 

 

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