Back from India

After six weeks of heat, cold, height, humidity, crowds, emptiness, sun, snow, good and bad I’ve returned from India. My laundry hangs outside to dry in the sun, my face is shaved and my body washed. Things from my journey, both old and new, are scattered around and just as, it seems, the threads left here to be picked up.

The pictures (1690) have been transferred to my computer and await being looked through and sorted out. The black book I carried and wrote in, my India Book and one of the most important accessories of my days, has been used and filled, bruised and enriched. Therein lie the days that passed with writing for each, and the cities and languages, maps and notes. Out of those, other things I wrote and every little thing stored in my head I will write a retrospective, though it will take time.

There is so much to do – there is so little time!

Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen, Mit der ich sonst viele Zeit verdorben, Sie hat so lange nichts von mir vernommen, Sie mag wohl glauben, ich sei gestorben! Es ist mir auch gar nichts daran gelegen, Ob sie mich für gestorben hält, Ich kann auch gar nichts sagen dagegen, Denn wirklich bin ich gestorben der Welt. Ich bin gestorben dem Weltgetümmel, Und ruh' in einem stillen Gebiet! Ich leb' allein in meinem Himmel, In meinem Lieben, in meinem Lied! - Friedrich Rückert