‘Invitation to my periphery’

Where: Any old place I can lay my head

When: Sooner than you think

What to bring: Firestarter, ramifications, distance, baubles, your possibles bag

What not to bring: Your bean-counters, your peanut-sellers, your claustrophobic rules. And your watches – leave your watches at home. And if you've given up your watch for a cell phone, leave that at home too – there's no reception out here anyway.

Comments: Oh, don't look so surprised. Surely you didn't think that I was going to sit around there forever, going through the motions, watching the clouds pass so freely and so far away. During monsoon days a butterfly, astoundingly white, used to fly in through my window, flitting around in front of my face while I carried out my responsibilities, and then just as quickly leave again – noiselessly, but leaving a tiny dusting of wing powder in my lap. And oh, at times that dust would burn; and oh, how I wished to jump through the window after that tiny flier, so light and free. And oh, that time has finally come, so come help me to celebrate the vagaries. Don't bring a flashlight: out here on the periphery there are no streetlights; out here there are only stars immaculate.

This is part of a regular series of Himal's commentary on work by artists with the Kasthamandap Art Studio in Kathmandu.