Gwen snippets of memory, as they arise—


The graciousness she showed when the priest came to say prayers that one Sunday.

How she asked permission to sit as she could not kneel. And the way she clasped her hands together in the prayer position, it was difficult for her to make them touch but she did it. And she smiled so happily after the service.

Her howling, obviously in pain and scared. Didn’t understand what was going on… I understood. Feel for her.

 

Doing her exercises with the physiotherapist she was tired!

Always dropping off fruit or some offering on her way down from NE

Mangoes ripe and delicious – the fruitseller holds two in his hands and gestures me over with his eyes and head. A bathariyan dancer could not do better, and I am, as usual fascinated by the endless language Indians have in the nodding of a head, a blink of an eye, a raised eyebrow. Pupils that dart from left to right, a universe of commands in a sea of faces.

 

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s