When I was a little girl, I used to wait for the postman at the gate. I was waiting for news from my parents, traveling around Asia. The letters used to come in silk paper, with blue-and-yellow scrollwork and with descriptions of decorated camels and elephants, passing by carrying mysterious passengers, wrapped in turbans and multicolored veils. Almost 40 years later, I went to India to get some of these images from my past. Memories of what I had never seen.