Elephant and lotus flash design

The elephant has finally stopped trying to leave the lotus pond. Brother Anand says she only wanted the cool water and the shade of the eaves, and that we were fools to chain her to the gatepost each night. I have spent all week mending the chain links with copper wire, and my hands look like a tinker's.

You asked in your last letter whether the monks here are happy. I do not know how to answer that honestly. We rise before the bells, we sweep the courtyard in slow circles, we draw the same mandala in coloured sand and then sweep it away again. The abbot says the point is the sweeping. I used to think he was being cryptic. Now I think he means it plainly.

Yesterday the lotus opened three weeks early, all at once, the pink edges turning gold where the sun caught them. The elephant lifted her trunk and held it there, quite still, the way you used to hold your breath when we waited at the top of the lane for Father's cart. Then she lowered her head and pressed her forehead to the water, and the ripples ran out under the petals and touched the stone steps where I was sitting.

I thought you would want to know that something here is still trying to get home.

Write soon and tell me about the harbour.

Yours, Eamon