|sent from: London, UK. destination: Cherry Hill, New Jersey, USA|
I always forget how hot it is in Bombay. Not forget like “where did I leave my wallet?”, but when packing in milder climes it’s almost impossible to imagine being somewhere where you don’t want anything against your skin because every pore is sweating from the humidity. Your head feels the weight of the entire atmosphere above you, you want to crawl on your belly, but the ground is egg-fry hot. If a store has AC, and very few do, it’s little relief because at some point, you have to step back into it, and it wraps its arms around you like the neediest, clingiest blanket of heat and smell and people. At night, it is dark, that is the only difference.