by Gabriella Sonabend
Today has been utterly exhausting; I can barely muster the energy to write. I will have to try to remember each detail for tomorrow. One image I feel I must share for fear of forgetting.
As I am driving towards the ghat in a rickshaw I see a little boy climbing up a mound of rubble and dust in the street holding a tin cup. As he scrambles he fills the cup with dusty sand and I notice that at the top of the mound there are the shapes of upturned cups molded in sand. He is turning the mound into a fortress – like a child on a beach. The thick air swirls around him.