in front of the relic of the Buddha, people come with ‘monk offerings’, the women next to me have toilet rolls for theirs – ‘why not?’ she’d say. * In sunshine over forested hills, a stain of clouds rises and falls. At the temple, on the plate that describes the lintel, a spider makes a web. The mynahs in their cage clean their mute from their feet; the family dog is dry, atavistic, scruffy, testicular. It seems that only finches squabble in the bush and only little egrets fish in the salt pan. The butterflies, black and gold, come dipping down the far side of the hedge, round the gate post to probe the cautious florets of deep orange on the garden side. A pair of pied fantails (Rhipidura javanica) - ‘The pied fantail ends with three white half dots on the edge of its tail; most charming and sweet little birds.’ - skitter and play round trees in the garden. If one is feeding the other, oh, it is difficult to know which is which as food seems passed from one to the other before it is swallowed. *

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