Issue Twenty-Two (Sep 2010)
And where do you think you’re going, my pretty, my pet? No. Stay here with me. I’m not like my sisters. Words sting sharper than the slash of a claw, I’ve found.
U Maung Tin is waiting for me.
Waking in my room at the old Strand Hotel, I view the ragged cotton rug and bare light-bulb with pleasure. Burma again!
She almost looked like a china doll sprawled on the sala floor, with her curly brown hair, full red lips, almost porcelain complexion that she got from her mother, and the high forehead, button nose and the slanting brown eyes that she got from her father. She was alone, humming a senseless tune under her breath as she bent over two fairy tale books and her scattered toys, drawing on a coupon bond with a black crayon.
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