It´s hard
to know where to begin . . . in bare feet, under a mango tree, temp 40
degrees, wanting to go for another swim in the river, or eat another
banana from own garden . . oh how sweet they taste!.... from trees whose leaves
flap and hang like elephants´ ears, as I watch two women driving cattle along
the red dirt road, the older one looking resigned to life as she knows it and
the younger looking resigned to life as she expects it to be, or maybe neither
neither . . . .?
In a way,
it´s all too much, too much to do with being not writing about being.
Even when
it´s raining, with fat drops and claps of thunder, all is well in this
paradisal world. You can be shirtless in the rain! The frogs sing! Rain running
off broad leaves is a delight to watch!
A
remarkable situation, that would hardly figure in anyone´s dream holiday, and
yet . . .
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