Uncle Ho, Be Glad You Died While You Still Thought You’d Won
I’m in a Vietnamese restaurant in Sugarland, Texas, watching tables of Vietnamese families eat pho with a fork and spoon. What comes first, turning your back on the past or facing the future? How do we choose what to forget? Can we choose? This morning in the car, I was listening to a Hindi radio station. I used to know that language – words, just words now as recognizable as children to an Alzheimer’s patient.
rustle of dry leaves
I go for a walk
in the dark