Morning in Varanasi
I love this town. So full of life you can't imagine. Naked sadhus, sari-wrapped beauties, boats, bells, chimes, songs, slapping chapatis, the slap of sticks hitting cows' rear ends (they roam free), all in a symphony day and night. My irreverent father came to visit me there and suggested one day, "Hey! Let's go down to the burning ghats and see what's cooking!" The guy always made me laugh.
I lived for awhile on the Ganges in a houseboat so tiny it could hold 5 ft. me and little else. Naturally I didn't entertain much. But I did play nightly for the international hippie crowd on larger boats. And in a house by the river. Guitar. Songs. Drums. All out in the open. Never a dull moment.
Varanasi, India: Richard Anson