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Note to Self

When you sweat here, the morning layers dry and stratify with the afternoon build-up. You slip through the streets this way. Mango juice drips from your hands. You have bargained down the price of bangles from a vendor after the Indian woman nearby scoffed as his inflated quotes. You will quote this back to whomever receives these as a gift to avoid looking cheap.

For dinner, you have eaten a ravvi masala dosa without a napkin and now and the spices are draining from all of your sinuses. You shower with the faithful bucket, refreshed but not for long in the un-air-conditioned room. You cannot tell if you are damp with clean water of a fresh grease of sweat. Do not take out your left eye contact before hand-washing. The masala is still there. The masala is always there.

And don’t remove the right, either.

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