In all the agony of New York, I loved The High Line. It’s a former elevated rail spur that has been converted into a fabulous urban garden. Should have stayed up there for hours. And it’s where I found the best coffee that I drank in New York.
And a bee and I found each other not too far from a pair of water towers. No wonder I was happy.
Kinda made me feel like after all the rush and insanity of man’s Manhattan, when we are all gone, what will be left will be grasses and bees and Lady Liberty.
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Author: Wendy's Out of Station
I write as a way of processing and reflecting on experience, and as a way of sharing that experience. When I travel I used to write email journals back to friends, family, anyone who’d read and risk immersing themselves in my reality for a while: writing for them was a way of writing for me. Borrowing from Graham Greene in a flip of Travels with my Aunt, I imagined writing letters to my nieces, as their travelling aunt. Crafting the sentences became a way of extruding the experience, giving it birth, drawing its meaning from my soul, nurturing it into something tangible with a life of its own.
The aim of my blog is to open the world to my thought-children, to let them out of the safety of my friends and family and let them experience the world. And in the process I get the honour of taking a larger group with me when I’m wandering around India and beyond, or just reflecting on parallel truths, thinking thoughts that take me to new places new beginnings.
Please journey with me
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Wendy's Out of Station 
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