the burning Light.

its hard to know what to write some days.

some days it feels more like a discipline. the being. the listening. the waiting. and some days, when the sun sinks down, i might just begin to believe that this is my life here. and that on most days, i even quite enjoy it.

today when kristin and i visited the gach we brought a cake to celebrate one of our friend's birthdays. she giggled a lot, as we females tend to do when words don't seem to come...when celebration's in our midsts, it doesn't even matter that indian cakes taste like logs of butter and lard...

and as with all the other girls we visited today, i sat on their beds and tried to wrap my mind around the understanding that continues to elude me.

what is reality for a sex worker ? and what is my place in that reality.

i ache to know their stories, to understand every string and strand that has woven them into lanes of Kolkata. instead i get broken bengali understandings, smiles, cha.

and open doors, "come agains", and a chance to keep peering into their darkness.

a chance to keep understanding.

in all honesty it was a normal day, a great day.

mondays, i visit the gach and have my team over for supper. i lure them in with chilli and chocolate and rip their faces off with yet another disturbing movie.

but i wonder how such a day can ever get normal.

or do i just get numb.

may love continue to melt my heart into a wax worthy of the burning Light.

amen.