On the eve of the New Year, in the light of a partial lunar eclipse, with a Piscean sister born on the same day as me, we danced to the Brahmanic sounds of Hindu worship.
The devout bathed in the holy Ganga as plumes of mist rolled off of the river.
It was my second New Years in Varanasi, and like the one before it, I felt all the power and blessings of being in a place of unbroken ritual and worship for thousands of years.
I cast away the unnecessary worries of adolescence into the foggy blackness and welcomed the divine to intoxicate my being.
And the dance continues...
