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passage to india
2004-11-24 | 9:40 a.m.


hi from India, dusty and torn and colored, and loud, a mess. in bombay I sipped tea by a grove of trees, chipmunks whirling around the rough bark and flowered leaves, parakeets screeching over my head. on my way to pune, painted trucks honking, ganesh bobbing on dashboards, makeshift tents made of garbage bags. teeth flashing with laughter. women bright as birds carrying branches tied to their heads, weaving their way around the sap-tongued cows. garbage on fire. the call to mosque. everything.

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