BURLAP BAGS AND OLD DELHI

Dylan's song Love Sick is playing.

The words remind me of what I felt when I was walking through India.

Again, I must emphasize the intensity of sights and sounds that I experienced while I was in India.

Ugly and death-like smells came later.

The carnival-like scenes of day had now melted away.

No carnival now.

Somber and gray air was everywhere.

The temperature had decreased.

I saw a dog who curled up and laid down on the embers of a fire to keep warm...or to commit suicide!

I walked.

I walked.

And I walked some more.

This night I was outside of New Delhi and had entered Old Delhi.

Old buildings.

Eerie shadows.

I saw a camel lying in a street's gutter. It slowly raised its head up and then moved it back and forth as if to say "No, no..."

I did not think that this was a good omen.

I kept walking down darkened streets.

Then I came upon a narrow street that was more brightly lit.

There was a small post office on a corner.

I entered, wondering if I could mail a letter, and then walked out.

I came upon a large truck and the back of it was piled high with fat burlap sacks.

I had no idea what the sacks contained.

Then I climbed on top of them.

Why?

Maybe I thought that I could hitch a ride.

Where?

Good question.

A man with a hooked tool was pulling up more bags.

I decided I'd better get off of the bags or I might have something sharp inside of me.

I continued walking and walking until the next sunrise.

IT'S ABOUT RENEWABLE RESOURCES