Bali, 2002 I sit in a palm-fringed temple garden. The scent of vanilla, frangipani and incense fill a black night. The ceremony of Saracyai, gratitude for the gift of art, is about to begin. Carrying towering candles, a line of young girls weave around the stage, filling it with golden light. A drum beat starts. A bamboo flute and gong join in. Out of the shadows, a young woman, wrapped in yards of glowing gold brocade, moves center stage and begins to dance. Her arms drift on a current of scent and smoke. My heart stops. Slowly she lifts her face and her eyes, black with golden flakes, catch mine and hold them. Two years later, that beautiful dancer became my wife. This series is for Daiyu and our baby son. You fill my life with magic. |