You're walking down the street and there, sure enough, under the same tree as this morning, sits the holy man, stark naked, blue with ash.
Rishikesh? Benares? No.
Turtle Creek, Wisconsin, USA.
I've always wondered what it would be like to live in a place where, in the natural course of things, one encountered the blue men (and women) as part of everyday life. I've also wondered what it would be like to be one of the ash-clad, given to the gods, wandering like ghosts through the world: in it, but not of it.
Well, I'll soon find out.