You're a woman

Broken rain spout

Number 6 is a forlorn temple. Kept alive by pilgrims. Every day of every year. 'Are they kind to beggars at temple 7?' I ask.

They pull out a map and point to a bridge I can sleep under if I'm refused. 'But you're a foreigner and a woman so it should be o.k.'

People wave incense smoke onto their bodies.


Copyright Edwina Breitzke May 1997