I can remember that day. I was with several tourists. Someone wanted to see an orphanage and so we were brought there. It was part of the travel package. We saw the lake, the dam, fishermen, flowers at roadside, colorfully painted schools, a boy who drew a pair of glasses on his face, toothless kids with wide grins, noodle making, weaving, and then an orphanage, before we went on to a bullock cart ride into the fabulous sunset on this landlocked backwater village in between two famous cities. What I remember most are the faces of the children, those with parents and those without. I do not remember sleeping that night, in the mosquito netted bed.
Becky’s past squares 2021-10-15