The Indian faces, the Metro, the toilets, the Rikshaws, streets, cows, dogs, skinny dogs, sick dogs, the Train station, the Train.

The Indian family who shared the compartment with me. The Chai wallas, the water bottles walla, the veg puri walla.

The Taxi to Bodh Gaya, the locked gate of the Thai Monastery, the smiling face that opened the gate and let me in: the refuge.

The silence, the morning meditation. I open my eyes when the bell rings and there he is: Christopher. I smile. I was sure I will start crying, but I smiled.

The porridge, the tiny bananas (2 for each yogi).

The Indian weddings, the loud music, the pilgrims, the flowers.

The Lotus Bud, the Lotus openes up. I'm happy.

The Inquiry with Christopher, the 7 puppies running around the lawn at the Monastery, the last day of the retreat.

Mr. Kangaroo's soft eyes. the other Mr. Kangaroo lovely hugs and free laughter.

The Bodhi Tree

the Heart's opening.

the refuge.