The Navel of the World

1 February 2014

Lake Titicaca is a freshwater lake the island of Amanti our home stay terraced and peaceful no motors no lights no buzzing at all the lake is an ocean of lappings the pathways are cobbled the fields tilled by hand the walls made of stone are Inca the light is soft the faces kind the food is simple and wholesome vegetable soup fried cheese cracked corn yams and beans and chick peas the peppermint taste of muña grows wild along the walkways everybody walks walking is life everybody moves so softly i love how the day keeps pace with the body the passage of sun on eating and working i love how the language has lilts and lulls how hands and feet grow silence the loveliest sleep in the world falls here i wake to water sheep at my window chased by a granny on nimble legs who leaps a stone wall waving her stick whistling dawn on a donkey ears lit softly beans to be dried a net on the mend everybody’s up and working everybody works but nobody hurries it’s hours still before breakfast the bed the floor the sweet latch at the door all has been worn to smoothness time deepens its rings in my hands

 


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