Peekaboo.

I often hear people complain that they can't see the view through the clouds - the mountains, the other side of the valley, the sunset, or the moon. But moonlight through the haze has something going for it. Something I don't think we give it nearly enough credit for. Rising over a city like a distant spotlight, blurred and unobtrusive, it waits for attention gently instead of commanding; it asks for nothing but offers what it has - light despite the obscurity. It lets me take it as it is.

Traveling demands attention - constant vigilance, stimulus fighting each other to be the most noticeable. Learning to put that aside, it's amazing what comes into view.

Already my memories are becoming hazy - what did I do in Hampi? Where was it that had that really incredible temple with Ganesh that was being covered in quarts of milk? Who was it that told us that story of... When did I...

And through all of it, if I stop being anxious about forgetting, I remember a feeling, or a sound, or the look of a child from the seat in front of me on the bus going to wherever. Maybe these memories are a little out of context, detached from their origin. But does that really matter?

If my stories, when I get back, are missing pieces or divorced from space and time, forgive me. But know that they are perhaps even more important for that very reason.