Observations 05.12.2022

There's a man with a turban wrapped around his head walking by wearing all brown. There are two boys sitting outside chatting. One is sitting on a motorcycle while the other stands beside him. There are chickens huddled together in a small coop beside three bicycles under the shade of a eucalyptus tree.

Every so often a scooter passes by, but there's less honking here. The streets would seem busy at home in America, but in India this place is methodical rather than chaotic. That is to say that life goes on with purpose––neither rushed nor lackadaisical, naturally.

The man sewing presses his foot against the petal rhythmically––forcing the sewing machine to churn. He's young and tall. When he stands I notice the beautifully printed kurta draped over his shoulder. He walks outside every few minutes to spit on the sidewalk before returning back inside to his sewing.

Clothes hang to dry for as far as the eye can see––blowing colors gently on the wind.

Rooftops sit stoic––unchanging with each passing day because time moves slowly here. It gives pause to let life simmer.