bamboozled bumfuzzled

Dear friend of my heart,

phlegmatically achromatic, neither a pinch, nor a slip, not even an off-beat ecstatic, this evening finds me deprived of touch, so cheerlessly static, doggedly skeptical, witlessly dogmatic. What an impossible situation I must start with… interestingly though, things take a curious turn as soon as I try to tell you how I yearn to yearn… that previously seemingly insurmountable, blurts out an opportunity! I have been offered immunity impunity insanity, tippity-tippity-tappity… words call upon words, some seconds, some thirds, some minutes, some birds, some local, some vagrant, some knightly, unsightly, holding, upholding, folding, then molding, confirming, conforming, revolting and storming… words call upon words… that is what they do… therefore, before I lure you into the wasterly wicked weaving of my blinded mind, I will take a deep breath, followed by some nuzzle-guzzle with a puzzling wine…

Can’t think straight. I’ll simply leave you with the harmless exploits of the afternoon. Let the pictures do the talking…
…from the depths of the damselfly land…

bee2 copy


c2 lq
mister C
c7 lq
c4b lq
shy or wicked


damselfly of the damselfly land
gb lq
higher up in the little forest
sprouting in the fall
the biggest of them all


much love,
bamboozled and bumfuzzled,
Prashant Nawani


  1. Bamboozled, indeed befuddled… strangely flush in the cold night.
    ‘Tis true that words call to words, and yours are quite… magnetic, enigmatic, sly and forthright

    What a perfidious pen…

    1. In reply I will do a crazy dance for you…

      just did it… in front of the mirror too… can’t believe that it’s possible to dance like that and not break down with laughter…

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