Dia

I met her at Tanah Lok temple in Bali. She was trying to sell me some colourful souvenirs with quiet desperation on her face. She had no time for my niceties. She was here to do a job. There are plenty of street children in India trying to sell me stuff, but Dia somehow tore my heart with her grown up almond eyes, neat ponytail, clean clothes and sling bag, translucent flawless skin and serious expression. I could not touch her on the head, as I read in The Lonely Planet that here the head is considered the home of the spirit, and it is very rude to touch it. So I just made eye contact and spoke to her gently, asking her to smile and then showing her the photo on my digicam. This somehow brightened her up, until she disappeared into the crowd of tourists, on a mission.