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Lyrical writing, Linh. You write poetry, this time:

Into its darkness, I happily enter before the sun rises.

Inside their cages, they see me. On wooden beds, dark forms sleep.

Here and there, coal fires are started to grill meat or fish.

A longing ballad plays. Without understanding the lyrics, I know

it’s not just about sadness, but love. Even a familiar city

becomes entirely new with each dawn. It’s always been this way.

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founding

I am still a bit amazed when I read in these pages and elsewhere that Americans are still tolerated, if not actually welcomed, in various spots around the world where you would think otherwise. I think it is human nature to be capable of categorizing people and vilifying some of them on that basis, while remaining capable of taking them one at a time when you actually meet one. (Does that make any sense?)

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Excellent. Locking your articles may not entirely eliminate the riff raff but at least makes them pay for the privilege, and by extension brings a little cash money into these tiny economies. Win Win!

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Your words and photographs put a big smile on my sad face this morning. Love, P

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Hi Linh cheers for the shout out. Can't wait for our next conversation. Through your words you sound healthy and strong. When you get to VT I'd love for you to join me on my morning walk on the beach or up a mountain.

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Beautifully written and such wise thoughts, Linh. Truly poetic.

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