March 27, 2008 – Jodhpur India

It is hot.
Hot as in a small river of sweat trickles down my calf the moment one leg so much as thinks of lying crossed on the other.
Hot as in articles of clothing insistently bunch up and stick to your body at the creases – knees, armpits and elbows being prime favourites – and the small of your back can only vaguely remember what it was like not having a shirt permanently stuck to it by an ever-expanding pool of sweat.
Hot as in shops are closed through midday because even heat-loving Indians find it too much.
Hot as in having energy is a thing of the past
It is hot.