diary of an island girl in india

it's my last night in mysore and i wish i could paint the beauty that lies before me. photographs fail to capture the grace of the new moon rising against a pale young evening sky, or the scent of jasmine drifting in the air as a little one wraps a garland over a statue of ganesh. how can a photograph capture an old colonial mansion as it slowly comes to life, light pouring out of its windows as the dusk unfolds. or the wind on my face as i breeze through this charming little town on a motorbike, past cows that gently walk the roads as rickshaws whisk by, or the cool shade of the tree lined streets past temples that light up in the night. it is the ordinariness of things that makes these moments extraordinary, almost magical. india.