This space began as a quiet story of earth and effort – a journal of hands in the soil, of walls rising from dust, of children learning the language of a village. It was a place of documentation, of marking time in sweat and uncertainty. But time moved as it always does.
Dust settled.
The walls stood firm.
The children no longer looked back.
Swara came into existence.
The words once tethered to the physical, began to wander. What was once a scaffolding and structure, beam and column, became something looser something untamed. No longer bound to the tangible, words found a new weight. They drifted inwards, into the unmarked spaces.
Stories became a place where the seen and unseen converged, where the weight of a moment could be held, turned over and given shape.
It is where time appears willing to bend, if only briefly – when darkness still holds dominion before the first ray creeps over the horizon. It is in this darkness of gestation where thoughts emerge, half-formed and waiting to be shaped. It is here where wrinkled, worn and weathered marks of time become something in pen and paper.
So, here we are.
Over 5 years of journaling, Clouds on Tour gradually takes a different turn. The physical world has been constructed but the written world – deconstructed.
But what remains unchanged:
Time moves in its own way, carving it’s path. Each dawn rises like a quiet blessing. Discipline is not a burden, it just is. Learning unfolds and not wrestled into place, but absorbed like roots drinking deep from unseen waters. And work doesn’t exhaust, it fuels, like a steady fire that warms but never burns out.
FEBRUARY 2025.
