H & I went to India.
We went to Istanbul first. In probably one of the oldest mall and then out. We ate corn on the cob and then drank turkish coffee. Ayub, our driver, of the accidental mercedes bus we hired – sat waiting. Next to Collin’s he repeated.
We went back to the airport somehow. It didn’t seem like we were moving. Asia on the other side of the water – we watched the boats. The marina. And then Bombay. The maximum city. We drudged our way to my little flat in a broken building…waiting to be rebuilt. Jazz at Olive’s Sitar at Saffron… Salads at Eat Around the Corner and all that noise. That loud noise. Jewelry shopping at Aquamarine and Curio (always Curios) Le Pain / Indigo’s / Starbucks… Bombay is a city to eat I said. But it isn’t. It’s a city for me… to hide with M on Yaari Road. To wake up to curtains and shining star. To take an uber “back” somewhere. To cross over the streets now no longer where I grew up. And before I knew it, it was Delhi. Another home now because Bombay is quieter. We drove to Agra and I saw the Taj Mahal. Again. But really for the first time. Because memory is a funny thing. And then it was over. All of it, and I’m back in my real “home”. Where we live. You and I.