I wish you were here...

My Goa song.
So I'm back from the land of sun and sand, unscathed and having made no hospital visits.
Back from Goa, where time and timelessness collide, events blurring as the drunken morning.
Sunrise.
The sun ablaze, in all her glory smoldering, sizzling and frying my skin to a golden brown. Golden brown, as I enjoy my chicken, cooked to perfection, delicious as the assortment on the table. Assorted as the members of the group, bonding, chattering away million words a minute. Words coming together in varied conversations. Varied, vibrant and alluring as the hawkers wares, let the bargaining begin. Bargaining for everything, even taxis, we will not triumph. No, not as we triumph over waves at sea. The warm waves, salty waves, invading my watch and my eyes stinging as the air thick with narcotics. Goa’s own poison, on beaches, shacks and streets, 'flying high' they said, as they were while paragliding over the water.
Splash.
The waves kiss my feet, coat it in a warm brown layer of sand.
Stuck.
As the sand sucks me in, I watch the sunset on my last day in paradise.