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October 2018, vol 14 no 3

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John Zheng


We stay in the Ozark forest for Thanksgiving. There are no lavish dinners since the nearest town is forty miles away, no eye-catching views since the leaves have fallen and everything looks so dull brown. In fact, there is no nothing except loneliness and tranquility. Each day we zigzag on the mountain roads taking pictures, and each night we see stars and then sleep.

back from her trip
Mom writes me about her yard –
weeds, weeds, weeds