|View from my hotel in Luang Prabang|
This morning was usually warm. Perhaps that is why I was able to wake up so easily. I took my laptop to a table overlooking the river, and it is from this view that I compose my first lines in this entry. The silence of the morning is broken by the distant cries of roosters, their voices echoing from one side of the river to the other. A man seems to be washing his clothes in the river, which is a yellowish green. The air is crisp, but it is impossible to distinguish the outlines of clouds in the sky. The morning sky here looks more like water than air. Never a sunrise, only a slow lightening up of the scene. Never color, neither cloud nor blue. Always that glowing white.
Last night we walked home after dark. After turning he corner down the unpaved road that leads to our bungalow, we caught sight of a few authentic images.
A family sitting in their living room, singing from a home karaoke machine. A woman’s untrained voice softly drifting into the dark streets out from her open door.
The night sky, with Orion in its center, overlooking us. We looked back up at the start through the tangle frames of telephone wires. A steady cry form a bullfrog in the grass. The chirping of crickets. It was beautiful and it was ours.
Tuesday, Dec. 16, hotel, sitting by the river, Luang Prabang, 9:09 am