Here we stood, clad in nothing but steamy mist. A hot wave of embarrassment rose into my cheeks. Sweat poured from my pores, and not just because of the steamy heat.
From the outside, the houses often look romantic and peaceful, especially when washed in the golden sunlight of a late afternoon. Stone walls stand in solid defiance, while mud brick walls have eroded, washed away by decades of rain, until they look like lumps of molten honey-coloured candle wax.