The more the time pass and the more the other bank, far away and desert, attract me.

We don't feel so good in Varanasi. I don't feel the serenity that I found out when I came here the first time. The mobile sellers, the masseurs, the "boat men", the beggers, the dealers and the tout shops oppress us. 

And the other thing that depressed me a bit is the omnipresent fog. But today, I met an italian girl who explained me how this weather is poetic : to her, it is as if Shiva took the city into his arms. Since that, the atmosphear seems a bit much tender to me.