Smoke bad, fire good

The wats are strung with fairy lights and the stupas are ringed with candles because the buddhas have come outside. All the little flames stand out on the unlit main street. The monks drum at unusual times—seven thirty today, in addition to the usual four am and four pm. The buddhas will be washed with water from gold bowls--ladies have been carrying them around town on motorbikes all day, riding sidesaddle, wearing their best sins.

The moon is nearly full. With all the smoke in the sky, it looks blurry and rusted.