In the afternoon, i don't perceive the beauty of Delhi.
there seems a subtle discontentment, and it settles over everything like the dust when the women are sweeping the streets.
there are things to be done, people to see, errands to look after, and often those things will take longer than you anticipate they will. There are construction workers using noisy tools. You can love Delhi in the afternoon, but not for its beauty.
Tuesday morning I woke up and went across the road to take some photos of a sweet small family, Kham and Kagui with their 5 month old daughter Athaliah. I walked past the small slum I always pass on my way to PMI, and I looked through their alley to my left to find the small concrete area transformed as it was struck by the morning sunshine, echoing with brightness, reverberating a pure white glow.
I wished it was always morning all day long.
but then i loved the five o'clock light. Walking around Burari during house visits, I remembered the way it framed the faces of the children, clarifying each golden silhouette in a crisp halo around them. I wished it was always morning, until it was five o'clock.
But then there was a crisis, and I walked the streets of our neighborhood in the stillness of the midnight. There was something eerie about the swarming streets I know when they were deserted. There was something peaceful and also terrifying about the streetlamps lighting my open way - no cars or motorcycles honking behind me, no people or tailors to sidestep, no children to smile at, no staring men, no shops to check for a packet of full cream with which to make my chai.
the sleeping world is beautiful and strange.
It should always be morning until it is five o'clock, and five o'clock until it is midnight, and midnight until it is morning again.
This morning, i woke up and packed, made plans and made chai.
This five o'clock i'll be in the asian air, somewhere among the Himalayas.
This midnight i'll be sleeping soundly among friends in Nepal, anticipating elephant rides and the sight of the peak of Mt. Everest.
This is the day that our Father has made. I will rejoice and be glad in all of it -
but the Light is most beautiful in the morning.
(I don't know if I'll have much internet access these next two weeks. I'll talk to you all again March 14th!)
Love leaving Delhi,
Julie the light lover!
there seems a subtle discontentment, and it settles over everything like the dust when the women are sweeping the streets.
there are things to be done, people to see, errands to look after, and often those things will take longer than you anticipate they will. There are construction workers using noisy tools. You can love Delhi in the afternoon, but not for its beauty.
Tuesday morning I woke up and went across the road to take some photos of a sweet small family, Kham and Kagui with their 5 month old daughter Athaliah. I walked past the small slum I always pass on my way to PMI, and I looked through their alley to my left to find the small concrete area transformed as it was struck by the morning sunshine, echoing with brightness, reverberating a pure white glow.
I wished it was always morning all day long.
but then i loved the five o'clock light. Walking around Burari during house visits, I remembered the way it framed the faces of the children, clarifying each golden silhouette in a crisp halo around them. I wished it was always morning, until it was five o'clock.
But then there was a crisis, and I walked the streets of our neighborhood in the stillness of the midnight. There was something eerie about the swarming streets I know when they were deserted. There was something peaceful and also terrifying about the streetlamps lighting my open way - no cars or motorcycles honking behind me, no people or tailors to sidestep, no children to smile at, no staring men, no shops to check for a packet of full cream with which to make my chai.
the sleeping world is beautiful and strange.
It should always be morning until it is five o'clock, and five o'clock until it is midnight, and midnight until it is morning again.
This morning, i woke up and packed, made plans and made chai.
This five o'clock i'll be in the asian air, somewhere among the Himalayas.
This midnight i'll be sleeping soundly among friends in Nepal, anticipating elephant rides and the sight of the peak of Mt. Everest.
This is the day that our Father has made. I will rejoice and be glad in all of it -
but the Light is most beautiful in the morning.
(I don't know if I'll have much internet access these next two weeks. I'll talk to you all again March 14th!)
Love leaving Delhi,
Julie the light lover!
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