“Come, walk with me,” Kumi said. “There’s so much more living beyond 4 walls.” How can I convey the warmth of her voice, how her rounded syllables soothe me?
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This is the story of a furniture and gift shop owner who lost her way. “Focus on the beauty,” my Indian mother Kumi says, ever evolved. She does not mean this in a superficial way, as in beauty of the body, she could give a rat's ass about that.
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While in a foreign country, an ear for language and bartering abilities are only part of the picture when it comes to making connections.
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Somewhere in Rajasthan, India, we trudged for days through factory buildings and across open lots to look at myriad furniture, knick-knacks, architectural items, and antiques.
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There is the anticipation of travel before the trip begins: the excitement and fear about what will be different, what will change within me, and how I might possibly impact the new place.
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The sun has risen over the equator and fleets of overburdened ancient trucks, some literally toppled over on the highway by the weight of their unwieldy loads.
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