Where do stories come from?
Memory, past lives, what we call our gut or a hunch — are they built into our DNA?
Where do stories come from?
In my mind, the imagery is born of a life living between two worlds: Canada and Sri Lanka. I will always be an invisible outsider visiting Sri Lanka with a Canadian perspective.
Yet, something in my gut resonates with its exotic and strange pre-colonial history. I’ve grown obsessed with understanding my culture, which sprouted from its legend of being the Isle of Demons, fertilized liberally with Buddhism and influence from the Indian subcontinent.
How did Sri Lanka remain stubbornly independent of external influence for SO LONG?
