I was cycling through the Dorset countryside. Birdsong around me. Wild flowers in the hedgerows – red campion, still some bluebells, white clouds of cow parsley, bright yellow buttercups.I heard a motorbike behind me. Not fast and furious. Not ridiculously loud. But there, none the less.A passing place appeared and…
I am sitting at a long dining table. The table cloth is brilliant white, a crisp unblemished linen. There is a multitude of heavy forks, knives and spoons for each of us. I assume they are silver. But I wouldn’t know. I am twenty-two years old. Everyone else is twice…
A flash of saffron catches my eye. A man in white shirt and tan trousers is throwing a bolt of cloth backhanded, high towards the giant bronze Buddha. Above the heat, the incense and the chanting around us, hands reach out and catch it. The men carry the cloth behind…