The Boy From Korma

I met this knowing young man in Korma, the village where my grandmother was laid to rest last year. This isn't the best shot I captured of him, though; the best is a group shot with some of the other village children. While they smile and play to the camera, this fellow is sitting apart from the huddle, brow furrowed and head cocked-- as if to say, "What the f*ck?"

His skepticism (presumably of me)-- and the fact that he was positively, adorably swimming in his dashiki-- only served to draw me further in. He must have sensed my energy, which may account for his age appropriate softness here.