Language of faces

We are staring at each other and our language is silent. More and more people, young and old, are gathering in the small square in the village. I realise the deaf lady can communicate with us best, using gestures. We would like to eat, we have been walking for the whole day. Dark smoky kitchens are like a dream, smouldering through my memory. Edges of rotis are becoming black in the flames. Why do women wear golden rings in their noses? Only later I discover this is a sign of marriage. And for me, beauty. Their palms and fingers are worn out from work in the fields. Always carrying loads in the baskets, with weight leaning on their forheads, little above the smile. Life on foot, far away from the cities. A bunch of children is walking to the nearest school. A boy enters the room we sleep in and just observes what we are doing, as a shadow. How we drink water, brush our teeth, read book. I try to understand his curiousity. I ask him to teach me counting from 1 to 10. Now we have a little common language.

These photos were taken in the west Nepal, on the way to Rara lake and in the villages around Lumbini.

Text & photo: Uroš