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The moon is on fire now. And its smoke sends me back to India. I wonder if the moon really smells like its Indian counterpart incense sticks? I can hear God's tears pattering against the ground outside. I think he's moving his furniture around now. The thunder gives him away. I miss her, oh Mother India. To step into India is to have all five of your sense assaulted at once.... without the negative connotations...

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If time and money were no object.... here's what would follow... only it would continue.... Day one Just found my seat. Next to the window. A couple of butterflies sitting in my stomach but they aren't flapping their wings much. Yet? Off to have a chat to the Woolf of literature. It overwhelms me almost to the point of despair how much I have yet to learn. And how little time we are given on...

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