Night is coming. The street is still noisy. Drunken voices from afar, my quarter is pretty dodgy, this morning lots of police, ambulances, they took some wretched man with foggy eyes, some woman was crying, a pale little child didn’t know what’s going on. It’s stuffy in my room, but I don’t open the window, it would be too much, too close to that world outside. Still I feel ok. Krishna is somewhere close. Swami just talked about Lord Caitanya’s transformation from a scholar to a madman, then initiated few fortunate souls. I listened and drew a small sketch with dancing devotee and Krishna watching him from a distance. The devotee doesn’t see him, but imagines that the Lord is close. And Krishna enjoys watching him, looks with a loving, friendly gaze. There is no other shelter then him. The fear and confusion come only when I forget it. Fill up my heart, dear Krishna. Wake me up, please.
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