"One's destination is never a place, but always a new way of seeing things."
- Henry Miller -
The penetrating drumbeat calls me from my tourist hotel room's lovely foam mattress, crisp white sheets, and well-stocked fridge.
It found me through an open window and pulled me to itself, into humid and salty night darkness, on a beach of the Indian Ocean. Men in pleated skirts dance gracefully, with intensity, and toss well-adorned heads and silver bangled arms.
Another one eats fire. Boys whirl torches like batons. The Katadiya is twirling in the firelight, and he lunges close to me, peering through a terrifying shaman mask. Our dissimilar eyes meet and hold.
Now, I am no longer in this place, but in another. My individual mind is loosed. My American self inadvertently dissolved.
Fortunately, I have never been nor seen the same again.
What marvellous things will I discover there?
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