I don't know where to start.
For the last ten days, I've been on a pilgrimage along the river Narmada in rural India. Ten days that could have been months or a few hours.
Time becomes fluid like the river's water when I enter my pilgrim's clothes. The pilgrimage is a relentless subtraction process from the beginning to the end. Even before the beginning, to be honest, when we must carefully choose what we will carry on our shoulders for so many days.
And then, step after step, we strip ourselves of everything that holds us back from shining in our divine beauty.
Outside and inside.
And when we finally get to the end, dirty, worn and ruffled, there's a new light in the eyes of every pilgrim.
Something ancestral and powerful has been awaken within.
Now I know where to start from.
The eyes.
The eyes of a pilgrim are different.
And that is my wish for myself and my fellow pilgrims.
To keep walking through life with the eyes of the pilgrim.
I love you brother. You have the shining eyes of a pilgrim for truth