Winter’s almost here, and the season in LA right now reminds me of Assam. My kind of winter. A delicious chill in the air after dusk, and the rolling mist makes everything seem muted and somber – lights, passing cars and the boats.
The perfect weather to go walking and to take some pictures. It was brilliant, and as I went around the complex, part of me hoped that somewhere in the fog, I would come across a vendor selling roasted peanuts in a cart. And I would start to pay him and then realize that – shit, I have only dollars in my pocket, and paying a dollar instead of 5 rupees for a bag of roasted peanuts would be sacrilegious. I was glad I did not meet a peanut vendor, finally.
But there were only solitary people walking their pets, joggers panting as they thudded past me; strangely, a pig squealed from afar – I have no idea why, and I could hear sounds of laughter from the buildings nearby, presumably unrelated to the squeals. The air felt clean and fresh, I smiled at people, and they smiled back at me, and I came back home. Where there was Thai lemon and chicken soup, roasted duck and Thai iced tea to wash it all down. Was your evening better than mine? I don’t think so.