A full moon graced the sky in India where I slept on the banks of the Ganga. Each evening I was comforted by a steady and peculiar breeze. It seemed to be filled with kind spirits of the cremated bodies that burned along the river ghats. In the mornings I woke often from dreams of temples and visions of Hindu gods and goddesses. These dreams were often followed by hours of my wandering through the labyrinth of mazed alleys that weaved this "City of Light" into one.
"Like a forest where the leaves and dead branches and rocks and death of so much living matter shows itself as beauty, so it was here." Peter Malakoff from his essay Manikarnika Ghat in Benaras