Notes from Cottonwood

We're in the lounge at the airport. The mountains are out, white and sharp, the way they were the first morning. A man in the line is selling hot tea in paper cups and the whole lounge smells of cardamom.

Today a new country is proclaimed, here in Talas. I haven't read all of it; the television is on in the corner and the volume is off. The people around us are quiet.

Thank you to everyone who read this, who wrote, who brought soup. We came to a place we didn't understand and we leave understanding a small part of it. I'll keep the blog up, for the photos.

Salam, and rahmat. Beth.