-^-for posterity-^-

i was going to write something about how beautiful ho chi minh city is after a hard rain. i went to coffee and walked through the rain. the water poured down and bubbled on the sidewalk. all was warm and somehow cool. it was beautiful.

however, on my way to the cafe, i bought a copy of time, newsweek and the economist.

my mood could have not been more sour.

i sat reading story after story of what was termed 'prison abuses' (a phrase that, in my opinion, could refer to something as harsh as a general embezzling the money earmarked for dessert spending). the pictures and stories of such disgusting abuse made me physically ill. to imagine i am to come home to a place that has been involved in such abominations makes me ill.

i looked at the pictures and sighed, just like my mother does, through the mouth, slowly, with eyes that are not fully closed. i sighed and tried to understand. i left feeling heavy and walked down majestic streets just washed clean by the rain.

i felt like a stone in a dry river.