Calcutta

Bruce had often spoke of Calcutta with affection. I'd heard the stories of his childhood... throwing stones at windows, pouring color into the family water supply, things that hinted to his "dark side". I'd also often noticed the smile that crossed his face and the serene look he got when speaking of "home". Calcutta, is no doubt, Bruce's home. Will we ever live there? Probably not... but I don't think that matters. I was excited to go to Calcutta... for so many reasons, but from the moment we stepped off the plane and into the city he where he was born, my husband became a person in his element. He couldn't speak the language, but he belonged there. He'd attempted to explain to me on many occasions the feeling that overcomes him when he is Calcutta and finally I was able to see it first hand. To me, it was learning yet another facet of the complicated bundle that is my husband and it was good.... The picture is of Calcutta, from our hotel. This view is only blocks from where Bruce's childhood home is, but of course time has changed this skyline much since those days. Nothing spectacular... but beauty is in the eye of the beholder!