drinking chai in tiny terra cotta cups
taking long walks with new friends and feeling just a tinge of akwardness
listening to a little boy strum random notes on a guitar and realizing its one of the most beautiful sounds you'll ever hear
washing laundry by hand for hours with wonderful people
curry stained fingernails
getting lost and not having to care
finding Skyla(r?) and Gabriel and Jean and David and Clara and Ares and Ben and all the people whos names i cannot recall but whose faces i can't forget
knowing the women in my family would be proud of me if they knew what i'd been doing
hearing as much spanish spoken as hindi
seeing the smiles and hearing the laughter of broken children
singing and playing mariachi songs in the street
Happiness is knowing that these, even in all their brokenness, will be made new
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