Anita walked back over to park street yesterday to see if the man with the stolen pants was o.k. She didn't see him, but she did see a man with no shirt, and she said to herself, "no just keep walking, just keep walking."

This morning at breakfast Father Abello came over to talk to me again. He is a Canadian Catholic father and has lived in Calcutta for something like 36 years. I hate it when he talks to me because it always turns out to be a big political discussion and I always disagree with him and he always makes me angry and then sends me emails regarding the ills of contraception (it makes me so upset that the sisters are so against contraception when India - and everywhere- are having a crisis of overpopulation. I feel really strongly about this. anyways) anyways. anyways. I was trying to avoid eye contact and he was scanning the room looking for Americans so he could come over and tell them not to vote for Obama. But he found me and came over, and I thought, "oh no, not today Father Abello, please, I am talking to the really cute boy with dimples today, and it is a nice morning so far and please don't come over." And I felt like a catholic school kid. Only I'm not catholic and the boy was really cute, and afterwards we joked that we should hide the ballot that just came in from America for one of the volunteers because Father Abello might steam it open and vote for McCain.

And I decided that cute boys would be a good cure for the heartache that isn't going away. Why does it still hurt. I don't want to hurt anymore. And I don't want McCain to win. either. There are more Americans here than last month. Last month I only met two, now there are so many and mostly from the Northwest, which is nice. And we decided to have an "Obama wins" party in a couple of weeks.

The mural is coming along so quickly. I thought that we would still be scraping, but the walls have already been plastered and primed and Verity is drawing on the outline of the mural. I am so impressed by how hard people are working. They are starting at 8:00 in the morning and working until 5, 6:00 every night. This morning we followed her pencil lines with black paint until the wall started to look like a giant coloring book. It's great.

Anita and I are going to the Sunderban tiger reserve on Monday. We will go for two nights (sleeping in a tent) and return on Wednesday. (I have decided not to tell Anita about my claustrophobia and my habit of sleeping with a knife when in a tent. the knife eases my mind. in case I need to cut my way out) The sunderbans are a giant nature reserve - supposed to be comprised of the world's largest river deltas and forest of mangrove trees. It's pretty much a jungle from what I can understand - I wrote about it I think already? I can't remember. Long day.

A woman died at Kalighat today. It is very hard for me. I'm trying not to cry. I don't want to cry. today. I was squatting next to a big basin of water washing the dishes from dinner and they brought her body past me covered in a shroud. They were deciding what to do with her jewelry. I think. I don't know. I just sat there with my hands in the water.

Another woman was brought in today. Her scalp was ripped open and you could see the bone of her skull and in some places you could see her brain. There were worms and maggots crawling around in the open flesh of her head and three nurses were gathered around her with tweezers pulling them out. Somehow she is alive. I don't know how.

I am going to go buy a beer and write. A very hard day for me.

I want to curl up into myself smaller and smaller until I disappear.

And then I want to reappear, because I'm scared of being forgotten, and I want someone to cuddle me and play with my hair and hold my forehead and I want to eat mint chocolate chip ice cream and play soccer in the mud and have drinks with good friends and live forever by a river with a large fur-faced dog and good food and friends and family and someone to love and be loved. And I want french fries.

Don't misunderstand what I write though. I'm o.k.