I wake up in the morning to the smell of breakfast fires. I am luxuriating in the simplicity of this lifestyle. Wake up, take breakfast, work, take dinner, work out, read, practice Bengali, sleep. I have stopped shaving my legs and caring about the he said she said. It’s nice.
I went to the market with Bryan and found conditioner and a hair brush. A young man gave me a piece of candy for free at the store. I took this candy from this stranger and ate it. And didn’t die. Score. It was delicious.
I am sitting on the porch now. The air is languid, thick and humid. In the darkened houses you see the light from warm dinner fires not cool TV sets. At exactly 7pm the muslim prayers tumble over one another from different parts of the city projected by loudspeakers on top of mosques. Dogs howl in tune. The effect is both eerie and magical. The Arabic lifts and dips in a way American singing never does.
Asalam Walaikum,
Chelsea
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