I miss India.
I miss fried potatoes from the always-chirpy street vendor.
Having time for music.
Reading with my feet buried in the sand.
Lying in the hammock until my bones ache.
My evening mint tea.
Staring over the horizon at sunset.
Winding foot paths through coconut-tree filled backyards.
Big-eyed baby buffalos.
A plateful of okra for lunch.
Chatting to local kids using ten words of Kannada I managed to pick up.
Sitting around for so long that the only thing you can do is roll over.
Feeding birds.
Gazing into the Himalaya in the distance.
I miss my friends.
I miss India.
