Thought

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I am on campus. Winding dirt roads and the day is hot. We went to a
dance performance this morning and I was feeling tired, I fell asleep
there among the noise. They moved me to a taxi, I woke up sweating
then went to take a test. The driving is good. Allows time to think
but the dirt flies into your face, when you get home you can scrap
dirt off of you. Sometimes the smells hurt my nose too, the lead fuel
burns. I wonder what is happening to the lungs of all the kids out on
the streets selling gum and water. They must have a lot of lung
cancer here, and nobody smokes.

When I come down in the morning a boy puts my shoes in front of me so
that I don't have to walk on the ground to get to them. I feel
embarrassed. I feel ashamed. I tell him not to but he never stops.
Vida is always complaining that my dresses are wrinkled and I should
let one of the young girls iron for me. I am used to the village
where nobody cared about the wrinkles in my clothes. I don't even care at
home. In fact, sometimes wrinkles are fashionable.

I ate a cheeseburger at a fancy hotel yesterday and talked with Anna
about whether or not luxury is as nice as it seems. Maybe it is fake,
and shallow. But it does feel nice.

I had a drink with a rasta last night. Someone came and paid for our
sodas and he said he didn't know the guys name but that every time he
sees him he pays for him. The rasta is that kind of guy, people like
him for no reason at all. He has a belief in change, and I guess that
unites us.

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