Perpetual Awe

Allow me to work my way backwards. A boat ride along the river helped me forget my fatigue from biking and playing in the sun with children. A walk through old neighborhoods, with one hundred and eighty-something old house, surrounded by mature fruit trees and other growing produce helped me to suppress the urgent need to pee; and speaking French and English with the tour guide volunteers/interns, continuously trying to understand each other to simply communicate, kept me present. Earlier, the market: two stories of price haggling consumers and products up the walls and through the ailes. A maze of colors and shapes, smells, and tastes, from silk to smoke.

Yesterday was a visit with CPI and with survivors. This is a sadness that I cannot communicate at this time in English or French.