The contrasts here could fill eternity.
I see in pictures, but can’t get my bearing on directions. I have driven the same roads for two weeks, looking, watching and seeing something new every day. Everything here seems like a picture I can crop it in my mind finding the odd, the beautiful, the sad - each having a story.
In big white letters painted free
hand on the red building, in both English and Telugu, read “no stick bills”.
For two days, I thought do they get that much food on their money that they are sticky?
Finally, I asked Raju what does it mean? Was it about food?
In his kind smile, holding back laughter he said, no, like sticky paper signs on the wall.
Of course, "no stick bills"!
For two days, I thought do they get that much food on their money that they are sticky?
Finally, I asked Raju what does it mean? Was it about food?
In his kind smile, holding back laughter he said, no, like sticky paper signs on the wall.
Of course, "no stick bills"!
In fields there are pyramids of bricks, built next to houses built by bad wolf just waiting for a huff and a puff. Poverty allows for you to make the bricks just not to buy them for yourself and family.
Water is still carried in pots just like the little girl in Jungle Book catching you off guarding while you search through your memory of the movie looking for clues that may help you understand the magic of this place.
An inch is most defiantly as good as a mile in all things India.
There are no lines in the road guiding or directing traffic, just a few police officers dressed in khaki with whistles and white gloves at times.
Yet no one seems to be a free thinker in life areas.
It seems, thinking in life matters, should follow same rules for driving.
Keep going, don't second guess yourself.
Oh and one last note; when crossing the street, cross with a water buffalo, they won’t hit them, or you for that matter.
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