I still fart in India.
You know, in case you thought going to India meant I was the pure and holy type whose farts rise straight to the heavens like an offering of incense to God.
All bodily functions remain intact… in fact, enhanced.
I was quite happily bundled up in my life of consumption until God rudely interrupted me. I thought I had taken my brush with poverty quite well. I’d rationalised my childish thoughts about “what would Jesus do” and all those annoying passages in the bible about the poor and decided that having a mortgage was what following Jesus was all about. I was #blessed I guess.