Day 917

A journey is like the earthen pot. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it.

Day 909

Everyone is my brethren. I journey to find the German.

Day 905

If I am unwell, it is the will of the universe that my immuno-globulins be tested. However the fever, may my mind stay vigilant. Prepare the body in honey and clover. Say, "He worked for the good, wherever he saw it, as best he knew how."

Day 901

Perhaps, I shall stay here until my body is wrapped in a white sheet and placed gently in its cool grave. Or, perhaps, I shall be placed high atop the funeral pyre, and the people will breathe in the smoky essence of my travails.

Day 900

Nine hundred days. You say these are many, or the few? Nine hundred humble gestures of enduring hope. Nine hundred smiling children in the day's sun. Nine hundred drops of fecund water from the village pond--that I have yet to sterilize. Yes, I arrive only at the beginning.

Day 894

My Country Director has recommended that I take a home leave of six weeks duration. I have flatly refused his request.

Day 893

Two men enter the quiet paddy. One man is quick, but arrogant. The other moves like the humble mongoose, all shoulders and quick first-strike.

Day 890

Bloody, runny stools... My country celebrates its birthday tomorrow... The german practises with his throwing stars in the forest.