Linda

The past week was a mess, hence why my blog posts abruptly vanished and I just relied on the automatic posting feature to finish up telling the temple stories. I had a workshop to finish and kids not ready to perform on Thursday for a Friday show, I crashed my bike, and wasn't home any evening.

Instead, I was out on Pub Street, usually at the same bar or somewhere close, with a 50 cent draft beer and the free popcorn. I didn't go there to drink, as drinking alone is sad, and I could have easily just gone back to my hotel after dinner.

In being there alone, of course, I always started talking to the people around me and made some excellent friends, but that is not why I was there.

I was there to see Linda, the flower girl I talked about in the dinner post. When she said goodbye to our group, she said to me, "I see you every day." I took her seriously, and besides, I wanted to see her. I didn't see her over dinner, and so went to the bar in the hopes of catching her -- and did, every night.

Some days she would just sit and play games on my cellphone. One day she was selling some plastic snakes, and sat in my lap to recount an incredibly detailed story with each snake as a character, further astounding everyone in the vicinity with her grasp of English. Some days she would try to sell to whoever I was sitting with. On one occasion, when the monsoons hit, she came inside with me and sat, playing with my cell until the rains stopped.

I gave her my card with my email and phone, and made sure she had it before I left. On my last day, she begged me not to go. She said she was only here until next week, and then back to her country (province), some eight hours away. When she comes back, she said, maybe I sell, maybe not.

I promised her we would see each other again, and she made me hook our pinkies and swear, which I said. And when at last we hugged goodbye, she couldn't let go, and cried as I held her.

The sound you hear is my heart breaking into pieces. I dried her tears, promised again to find her, and then before either of us could fall apart anymore she left, and I ran.

I don't know what I did. She never tried to sell me anything, and I never asked to buy. We just understood each other perfectly, and since I left, I can't stop thinking about her, and spent most of yesterday completely broken-hearted. I'm going to find her again -- somehow. I'm already planning to make a dance about her, and call it Linda, and whenever I do find her -- show her, or have her dance it (she's a fantastic dancer.)

In any case, if you see her -- tell her I'm looking for her.