Soon it will be Utraan, the kite flying festival.
They say the sun changes its direction starting this day.
I searched the sky this morning.
But for a sheet of pigeons wheeling in flight, the skies were empty.
Just vast pale blue and the glitter of sunshine on the asopalavs.
Back home, about now, war hoops of “katiyeeeeey”, signaling the conclusion of yet another kite fight, must be heard sharp and clear.
Back home, colorful paper squares must be riding the high wind.