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The First Day Ends

MUMBAI—The day is ending in Mumbai. Kristina stands on our balcony, looking out over the city, over a ruined old textile mill, tenement houses and high rises farther down the road. She is dark and light against the odd grey light of evening, wearing a long black dress, her shoulders bare and her red hair moving slightly in the open air. The ocean is somewhere nearby, hidden by the tall buildings to our backs. During the day the heat was like some malevolent living thing surrounding us, trying to find its way in like a burning yellow tiger. It is resting now, sated by its day of devouring the city.

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