It was overlooking the edge of the compound's fence. I was right at the limit of the compound. The pure freedom and going back to my catholic nun's residence 2 years and a half i quebec city in my mind, where I was also a smoker, were lovely on my indian balcony. I took many rolls of balck and white photos but my mother probably threw away all my magnificient black and white and colour photos I took with the nuns when I came back. I left them in my bedside table drawer at home and they had gone months later when I came back. No one knew what had happened to them. sad, eh? A bit I think. But it may be practice of letting go of attachments.