Thirty-three small steps an off-white accompany my steps towards the sacred river.
The Ganges accept my body, cumbersome burden of a life without respect.
Varanasi full of spirituality and compassion for myself, I felt the need to remove those clothes so much care with which I arrived, I join the ethereal spirituality of this place that I loved so much in the stories and in the pages of dusty volumes to public library.
My feet too white, too clean, they move to the uncertain steps towards the river which brings mercy.
The sacred Hindu says that those who die in this city \u200b\u200bwill be forever in God's mercy, no more reincarnations, no more loops and recycle, just peace.
I look quite close to me, men who prepare the altar of wood.
A corpse is placed at the top, ready to become the wind to scatter ashes with a pat on the sacred mirror.
I had always imagined a sacred clear color, a heady scent, but I see only water and the smell of putrid mess.
dip their feet dirty in the world, the river purifies the generous man with black dirt, from the sins and takes care of it frees the soul and sacrificed for man, that's what I see, a gift.
watched the smoke of the wood, beside me, to accompany the soul of a woman into the sky.
The body will become ashes and fly toward the earth, the soul to heaven library, free to join the Mercy.
My body is completely submerged under the mantle purifier, a man stops to pray next to me, share me with his looks, his time.
I die now, Varanasi would be my last smile.
