Marketplace

There is a woman named Aditi who lives in Kathmandu. I have never met her, not in the way you meet someone across a table, but she writes to me sometimes, small messages meant to keep a thread between us from going cold. A few days ago she wrote just to say hello, to say she had been thinking of me and hoped my days were gentle. That is the kind of person she is: she tends things without being asked to.