Across the street from a Creole restaurant, I turn the key to enter and pass through the lingering sweet stale smell of an overflowing garbage can before seeing myself in the mirror ascend the marble staircase to apartment number seven on the third floor. My temporary neighbours consistently offer a polite greeting without hesitation whenever we pass in the stairwell. I feel welcomed. We all easily take care to avoid the new double-pained window frames that await installation and that are stacked against the wall on each level.

Nice

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Shri Swaminarayan Mandir, London

One Friday morning I spent an hour and a half riding the underground to visit the Shri Swaminarayan Mandir near the west end of London. It is the largest Hindu temple outside of India. During the short walk from the Stonebridge Underground station, a woman stopped me to tell me that her partner just hit her, she thought she was pregnant and she needed some change to by a train ticket to get to her mothers and it was only five pounds. She seemed distressed, or at least acted well with no visible tears. Unlike other strangers asking for assistance, I couldn’t pass her by without being rude and offered to buy her ticket for her. She gave me a rather inadequate excuse: basically, she had to take a bus to another ticket station that wasn’t near by. I doubted the change in my pocket would solve her problems but it seemed telling her so wouldn’t help either. After giving her the change resting in my pocket, I had no change left to donate to the collection plate at the temple. Is it foolish to think that the two opportunities to donate were somehow equal?

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