I found that my brief encounter with Leena had been its own source of quiet energy for me. Her questions and kind smile remained me for a long time, imbuing each stroke of my paintbrush with a renewed sense of peace and purpose.
The hills were equally arresting. I couldn’t stop staring at them, shielding my eyes from the sun as I tried to burn their image to my memory forever. When I think about it now, they offered me a bit of their clarity on a day when I felt anything but.
It has been a summer of discovering new landscapes – the ethereal Shi Shi Beach of Olympic National Park, the desert canyons of Yakima River Valley in central Washington, and now I can add Desolation Wilderness to that list, too.
She soon leaves us as we sketch the Bay Bridge, but Suzanne’s words remain with me throughout the rest of the day. Whether I’ve been in a place for thirty seconds or thirty years, I never want to stop sketching – and more importantly, stop seeing.
I take their sketch with me when I leave – as a token of gratitude that something as simple as a sketch could open the door to our encounter. Here in Southeast Asia, as on every journey, it is the people who have made each place.
It was to this view I returned on Sunday afternoon. With the Tibetans’ chants still ringing in my ears (What we want? We want freedom!), I sat down on the ledge, opened up my sketchbook, and turned to the valley below me for inspiration.
One of my favorite restaurants here in Goa is called Magic View, and no matter if you’re sat in the front section looking towards Patnem Beach or at a few tables out back overlooking Colomb Bay, the view is indeed, well, magic.