Pit-Stop in Northern Laos

Hip-to-hip with other women from the bus, my faded batik sarong provides minimal privacy compared to their heavy wool skirts. Knees in armpits, fingers on toes, it's been too long and the effort to relax is torturously slow. Dry sand under my bare feet absorbs the ample flow, sighing a sweet evaporative scent remniscent more of rain on asphalt than piss on dirt.