The World as my Palette
Sometimes inspiration comes on the winding road to Jerusalem. Up, up, past the war-scarred forest the city suddenly appears, a mirage of its ancient splendor. Sometimes it’s stirring in the waters of the Dead Sea, an illusion of calm, a witch's brew of magnesium, bromide, and salt. Sometimes it vibrates in a tiny guest room in Pushkar, while the dawn puja bells lure humans and cows to the sacred lake. Sometimes it seeps from smoking pyres in Varanasi and the tainted River Gan
