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We are in India, we are in Amritsar.
Yesterday I was extremely disappointed that I was going away from Pakistan, so much that we did one day of overstay to declare to the world our dissatisfaction.
Nobody gave a fuck.

At the end India is beautiful.
You arrive on this side and there are all those colourful turbans that fly around you from right and left on scooters, bicycle, rickshaw, threwheelers and bullockcarts.
India is a disaster and if you roll over on the ground, people will look at you, shake their heads and keep walking. In Pakistan you cannot roll on the ground, Islam forces you to assume a demeanour.
Sometimes I roll over, sometimes I walk with my back straight. In life both things are needed.
In India if you walk with you back up straight, stray dogs, beggars without limbs, widows and abandoned children will climb up on your shoulders. Your back will bend under the weight of distress.
A distress full of colours, let’s put it this way.

How much discomfort that we see by motorbike, so much desolation at the boundaries of the cities…

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