Early morning in Lahore. The world looks beautiful with its pale lights and bright flowers. From the side mirror you look back at the empty road, the broad white lines, and find great comfort in this loneliness. At the lights a blind man and a boy beg for money, chant a few verses. In the elevator the man who operates it stands up and wishes all those traveling onward peace. that might have irritated you a few years back; now you feel like accepting it all (without necessarily agreeing with it. Let it go, man).

As you turn for home you catch the brilliant white lines on the road, reflecting the sun's flashing golden light..something from a very old summer, some inexpressible thought (which is really just a feeling) crops up...In the very next street, a side lane, the road is engulfed in shadows. Birds fly out of them and crisscross your path.

A croissant, warm butter...little H singing to himself, "Don't go there, don't go there..."; you have to squint, to keep all these beautiful images in, even if they only last for a moment. The swami turns her back, and walks into the darkness. Don't look back. "Too much life has flowed by. I remember reaching my first decade of life and that seemed like an achievement. Now eight of those have come and gone..but I still remember the first".