And seasons change. The air coated in haze, the sky brightened into an almost fluorescent white, heat already gathering as the morning stumbles into an approximation of life. By the the time that I reach the hill the humidity has increased, sucking out sweat beneath a split sky, the northern portion bright, sunlight breaking upon the rising columns of the city, the southern darkening with the threat of thunder, distances foreshortened while hills look higher and steeper than they really are.

Pausing at the first viewpoint, droplets of sweat gathering at around my feet as I take a seat, drinking thirstily from my water, the horizon caught, now, in a glowing glaze where faint tower blocks rise from the darker lines of hills between, layers fading consumed. South the weight of air hints at shapes, a canvas of absences filled in by memory and imagination. Further along the paths are quieter, the air mutating towards something other then gas, hat soaked, shards of sunlight falling into the undergrowth, sudden shining flowers amidst the dulled frames muted further by the contrasting light.

Deciding that it's not a day for a longer wander and walking down towards the cat temple, the scent of incense coalescing into a cloud, gates opened, voices weaving chants and conversations, red faced statues of the goddess of mercy visible inside the hall. Below a woman burns money in a metal chimney, sheltered by a corrugated iron roof, flames flickering in the afternoon light. Figures which remind me of Haridwar, what we thought of as Siva's theme park, cartoon statues of gods scattered around. Here the same feeling, but something else also, figures carrying sceptres reminding me of Siva, something in the way they look making me think of Hindu deities rather than Buddha. Below a yard has transformed into a gathering place, massages being given, food piled on tables, white robed figures weaving patterns in the air..

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=55s3T7VRQSc