A Journey Once Begun, Has No End

I Love Truman Capote, Tennessee Williams, Flannery O'connor. I Read A Lot Of American Writers.

Looking A Dead Insect In The Sack Of Basmati That Had Come All The Way From Dehra Dun, He Almost Wept With Sorrow And Marvel At Its Journey, Which Was Tenderness For His Own Journey. In India Almost Nobody Would Be Able To Afford This Rice, And You Had To Travel Around The World To Be Able To Eat Such Things Where They Were Cheap Enough That You Could Gobble Them Down Without Being Rich; And When You Got Home To The Place Where They Grew, You Couldn't Afford Them Anymore.

In India, If You Are From The Elite, Dogs Are Extremely Important. The Breed Of The Dog Indicates Your Wealth, That You Are Westernized. The Cook, Another Human Being, Is On A Much Lower Level Than Your Dog. You See This All The Time.

I'm Always In The Kitchen, Cooking And Experimenting - I Love It. And Every Now And Then I Think, 'i Should Write A Cookbook' Or, 'i Should Write For Food Magazines.' And Then I Get Drawn Back To Writing Fiction Again.

Slowly, Painstakingly, Like Ants, Men Would Make Their Paths And Civilization And Their Wars Once Again, Only To Have It Wash Away Again.