Circus of Life, Leaf, Mysticism, Philosophy, Spirituality
Comment 1

With the Mother

There is magic here. And no other word can come close to expressing the invisible, that India carries. The final push to the food. The hungry mother slept on my knees. I looked for water but left only the yellow fruit. The cold moving empty train. The quaint noise. Her warmth, laughter. Still innocence. Giving is receiving. Mother Ganga.

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