* Muffled. As the sun set by the pool. The heat sapped any energy to do anything. The Khmers were already out dancing. There was a change of emphasis; and seasonally adjusted they could have taken on so many lives; but here they were, the aging, impossible parents lounging around while Henrietta prepared to go out with Laura. Some nights were meant to be quiet, indistinct. The house boy finished cleaning the cars. Another beer appeared in his host's hands. Ancient voices weren't going to toll this particular scene; this was all of our own making. And time, the cruelest river. Hard to believe she was cute once; when I met her, in 1989, he said to one of the geologists, and all these years later her thickened legs and scratched face and endless talk, with herself at the centre of the known universe, all of it had born fruit in this wasted afternoon. I'll do it for costs and a few hundred dollars, he said of yet another potential adventure, hiking in the remote parts of Laos, telling stories where the heat came down and only one side was ever told: the side they wanted the public to hear. From story teller to propagandist in a flash. All that curious integrity, what had it even meant?
One Lazy Afternoon
One Lazy Afternoon
One Lazy Afternoon
* Muffled. As the sun set by the pool. The heat sapped any energy to do anything. The Khmers were already out dancing. There was a change of emphasis; and seasonally adjusted they could have taken on so many lives; but here they were, the aging, impossible parents lounging around while Henrietta prepared to go out with Laura. Some nights were meant to be quiet, indistinct. The house boy finished cleaning the cars. Another beer appeared in his host's hands. Ancient voices weren't going to toll this particular scene; this was all of our own making. And time, the cruelest river. Hard to believe she was cute once; when I met her, in 1989, he said to one of the geologists, and all these years later her thickened legs and scratched face and endless talk, with herself at the centre of the known universe, all of it had born fruit in this wasted afternoon. I'll do it for costs and a few hundred dollars, he said of yet another potential adventure, hiking in the remote parts of Laos, telling stories where the heat came down and only one side was ever told: the side they wanted the public to hear. From story teller to propagandist in a flash. All that curious integrity, what had it even meant?