...in the evenings as the sun goes to sleep the smell in the air is thick with the days sweat...the pungent sweet smell of the fires that have been burning for weeks on end...day and night...the wind passes through the dust encrusted windows of a bus that beckons for the day it can rust away on a deserted lot under a might tree...this the vip bus...witnesses the tears and smiles of the 1000s of miles trodding through the hills of laos...passing with effort through towns...all the while listening to the children running to the side of the road to see whom the bus carries...crow like in the corners of my eyes and sweet in the corners of my lips their smiles and tears are carried in the dust...it is not possible not to feel laos...
peace
mag19
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