On the motorbike last night, buzzing past the shadows of temples and rice patties, the smell of midnight laundry wafted in the dark. The stars twinkled, thousands of them up above, as the smell went in and out, in and out. A laundry service on every second corner of our very long street, 15 min. north of Ubud. The laundry smell was so pungent, so real, that it carried the soul of the hands that treated it.
That’s what it’s like to be here.