Rooftops in Kathmandu – Globetrotting

How to heal your soul.

How to heal your soul.

Manoeuvring in and out of the rooftops, children are scurrying behind their mothers. Laundry is hung and plants are harvested. It is festival time and there is much to be done. The men sit below in circles, discussing the excitement of life and gushing over mobile screens.

My home is built like a layered cake, packed tightly next to others. I climb the layers to sit in the sun. The warmth falls onto my skin as to rub my soul with gentle safety. I scuff my feet about the cement floor, mimicking the movement of Nepali women as they find optimal viewing and sun-kissed spots.

The air crisp and the world moving rhythmically about me.

The fruit tree rustles beneath me. One, Two, Three, Four, Five… plucked and tossed in a soft preciseness up and over the rail on the second floor. Collecting the  fruit in her silver bowl she places them in ever so gently, reaching for the last one- it is quite a stretch. Her loose fitting morning gown, off-white with flower print rests on the shelf of her breasts and her motherly bottom. Her black hair is loosely in a bun, left over from her sleep. A grandmother of beauty. The last bit now tucked under her arm, back inside to where  raw food in the hands of a Nepali woman is transformed into a bowl of delight.

Rooftops in Nepal

Rooftops in Nepal

A man below, beyond the gates in the dirt covered roads and out of sight yells out his product of sell, “COOKIES” it sounds like to me, a non-nepali speaker. I know that it can not possibly be cookies, but for now this is my reality….thin mints?

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