Gold

Bronchitis for two weeks has left me cold and weak. Monsoon rain pours itself out every morning and every night and I lose umbrellas in droves.

But Myanmar continues to glisten. 

Shwedagon seems even more gold today. Its towers and statues glow - eeiry in their contrast against the drabness of the sky. We step along the glistening, rain-drenched footpaths, gliding our way between eternal flames and statues for the days of the week and donation stations. There's peace and sighs and murmurs of meditation and bells rung to signal luck transporting itself to the world.

I douse a Friday statue in water and offer up flowers and candles to a South Africa/British/Swiss baby in Johannesburg.