Yesterday night it rained. Hard. I lied in bed staring at the ceiling and listening to the music of gigantic buckets being upturned and layers of water falling onto the ground. India, I thought. Dark curly hair and large eyes and noisy confused traffic and cows wandering freely in the street and people dodging cars and cars dodging people and bargaining for ten or twenty rupees and the sharp auto horns and sickening vehicle fumes and motorcycle rides at night feeling the sway and swerve of a turn and watching cricket and watching people playing cricket and eating rice and chapati and curry with your right hand, I thought.



so what to say? in a different country, different culture, almost a different continent. 1500 languages floating around with internet cafes and samsung plasma tv's in showcases while two-cycle motor autorickshaws roam the same streets that change instantly from two lanes to five avoiding cows lumbering in the street. yesterday rode a motorcycle back from the organization at night around seven. was getting dark and slightly raining but the tire grips the ground underneath you and you toss with every bump in the ground feeling vibrations with every pore in your body. going fifty km/hr is fast as heck. earthy is a right word to describe this all. this all.



judgment kinda stops and all you become is a pair of eyes and ears floating and observing everything.