I came home from dinner at a little diner with friends. Laughing and talking. When I arrived home Permal was lying in the driveway on a blanket wearing towels on his head and wrapped in wool shawls. It is times like this I am furious at my lack of understanding Tamil. It is 87 degrees out. He is telling me somehow that he has a fever and is cold. I give him a sweater that Tim left here and an extra blanket and make tea and tylenol. He is sitting on my living room floor singing his prayers now. He assures me that he will go to the Dr. tomorrow if he is not better. He makes little moaning sounds. No, no no no! He can’t possibly go home for fear of losing his job—crazy. He finishes his tea and crackers. It is about ½ hour since he took his Tylenol. He stopped making the little sounds. He goes out and I watch him make a bed on the floor of the little guard shack and curl up. Two people under the same sun—but our lives are so vastly different.