Deedee got back from India. She stopped by work to say hi. I like how when someone first gets home from somewhere far away they’re still half in that other place. They stand in front of you, their body wholly on the ground in front of you. But you know that inside they are still there.
She was so recently there, hearing the bells on pack yaks in Nepal, hearing the traffic in Calcutta, feeling the heat and the dust and the smog on the streets. There is still all around her the mist of another language, other food, and the imprints left on and inside of her: Mount Everest swept into fog and children acting silly and charming.
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