Ganja green hazy clouds.

Pushkar, 24-03-1995. While my notion of time is fastly disappearing and reality around me slowly dissolves in ganja green hazy clouds, I keep struggling on with a joint in one hand and my sketchbook in the other. Sitting outside the chaishop on the main square enjoying banana pancakes for breakfast and coffee laced with bangh I see the crazyness of indian life in Pushkar like in a movie. My mind is a whirlpool full with colourfull hallucinary images that cannot possibly be real. I befriend myself with a french blond lady I meet in the painting shop and end up with a dinner invitation from the owner of the shop. He is impressed with my sketches of daily indian life, I`m more interested in trying to charm the blond out of her pants.