Hunched over into a precise 90 degree angle, Fatna sweeps. She sweeps with a dried palm leaf, sorting through leaves and debris, fallen white bouganvilla and sticks. She carries a blue sack to her side with a red stripe, once used for grain. Fatna is old. She has a withered brown face framed with a white scarf of faint sepia toned roses. Her cheeks are full around her mouth from years of facing the ground.When she stands up, she is tall and thin, skin falling into place around her cheekbones. When she bends, she folds like a yogini with ease from her hip flexers to her knees. If she turns her head to look at you, her eyes well with deep sensitivity and shyness.