|Yet when the winds were still and the hot summer days hung over us, there
was no language. During those times it was necessary to follow the pathway of the water, through the buildings to speak.
Although their voices were muffled and distant, with focused attention, I could, upon occasion, interpret them, and I
learned in my pidgeon language to respond and be vaguely understood.
||Outside the station I tried to find my way by a memory 7 years buried.
A man with a mask and a cell phone accosted me, speaking in many languages and something about Thailand. Much to my later regret,
I ignored him and pushed on.