Even the mosquitoes move in slow motion. The humidity teases the skin, and the sweat just stays a millisecond below the pores. The power cuts make the air heavier, and it seems like everytime the lights go out something stretches out from the darkness and engulfs all the oxygen. Then while it waits for the darkness to swallow up the village again, it retreats to the inundated gutter on the farther side of the narrow two way road.
I met God today amidst retched gold decor and gory depictions of some obscure unbelievable phase of the bible on the chapel walls. The hymns sung were in another language booming out of two jarring speakers. God is deaf. Or he will be soon, I thought.
I looked at him sitting beside me, flipping pages of the little leather bound book; lips moving faster than I knew his unspectacled eyes could see. I tried not to stare as I studied the creases around his eyes and the slight patch on his skin of something denoting senility and immediately felt guilty about nothing apparent.
I led my thoughts away; to the old pictures I'd found. To the flowers I wanted to put on my long passed away dog, to the pictures I wanted to click. I closed my eyes to imagine it, just in time to not see the lights go out again. I took a deep breath.