We descend on foot, hoping a reverse pilgrimage won't have adverse effects.

A few samosas from a friendly vendor sustain us.

Rustic bamboo rest houses and shops sit empty. Busy families in their homes.

Quiet path. A handful climb in the heat.

We stop for sugar cane juice overlooking the mountains. The canes soak in questionably sourced water, Ethan notes after.

Three hours pass, darkness descends.

Avoid tripping on rocks and roots.

Arriving home, my stomach churns all night.

Sick on squatters.

Familiar theme.

Electricity fails.

Snores echo through paper-thin walls.

Skin slick with sweat.

No bus ride this morning.