Parika - Supenaam Crossing

5.35am - 26th September: The sky a dusty blue merges seamlessly with the river. A family of Garlins - diagonal slashes of white - fly cross the river, perhaps across the sky. Bright lights and dark river boats (real colour unknown) the only markers on the horizon of possible separation. Closer to the shore the brown river - deceptively playing blue-brown - sashays like an open curtain blowing in the wind.

A man standing next to me draws in smoke, deeply. Curls it round his mouth, around his tongue like he is eating smoke - not smoking smoke - like it tastes of the most heavenly cuisine in a five star restaurant. The smell repels me. I turn to Paul and smile. He looks well. Life is good.