i lay out the praying clothes. first my mat, then my pillow to raise me up a bit. then the pure white robe, a blue mantle around my legs, a purple mantle around my shoulders. then, the great black chador, a true chadri, grill obscuring my face, luscious folds of sable black falling around me. i put a huge scarlet mantle over all and secure it with a flat-topped prayer cap. i am now ready. i place my hands on the spindly little table in front of me. and my coffee is as a dread draught of hell.
my groanings dark, high, low, screeching.
perfect.
