Morning. Heat hung moist and heavy, blurring lines. Clothes clung to bodies, and movements seemed to glide. I floated among these narrow alleys, breathing lightly to avoid Nhieu Loc Canal's rotten stink, afraid to disturb the seemingly secret lives underneath these make-shift roofs. A pair of eyes twinkled in the blue haze of the morning, curiously peering from within the gentle darkness that enfolded the neighborhood. I pressed on, my conspicuously ankle boots crunching the …
showed first 75 words of 1321 total

showed last 75 words of 1321 total
…still cherish the beloved city, the mornings. And we hope, more than anything, for more opportunities! And, we dream, more than anything, for a better future! Saigon in its stern brown decrepitude, its seemingly bottomless decline, still had a capacity to produce mornings like that very July day. Mornings embraced everywhere by an affirmation of a new life so resolute it is breathtaking. Mornings like a perpetual phoenix which surfaces, unscarred, and ready for more...