The next morning.
They were back this morning. As that little patch of land turns from one green to another, I see their fingerprint on the world growing with each day. They don’t know I am here watching them quietly before the first heat of day; watching them work, before I go do my own. On any given morning it’s usually just me and the birds keeping them company, wishing them a good days work and a good conversation.
nancy stock-allen
E
Reading the blog brings me back to my visit there a few years back….no one can grasp the number of motorcycles….imagine what is was like trying to cross the street on Christmas Eve—crazy. Enjoy the rest of your time.
Eat a big bowl of pho for me.
Nancy