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Talking into the night
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Kathmandu, April 13 -- It has started to spray. We're about to step out for lunch. We're both starving. Let's borrow this huge umbrella, I say. I pick an abandoned umbrella from the reception, the largest one available. It's enormous, the size of a restaurant shade, black with an orange lining. We step under the umbrella and it's like stepping inside a room. We start walking together. Slowly. This is nice, you say. Yes, I say. But I can't tell if you mean the size of the umbrella or the rain. I also want to ask if you mean it's nice that we're walking under the same umbrella in the rain. But I don't ask. How do you ask a stranger such questions?
There's a brief awkward silence. I'm perturbed by your presence. I can't tell if we're strang...
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