Rainy day today, feels about right. I miss Myanmar more each time: border crossings leave little time for reflection or a quiet parceling out of emotions, smells, things to leave or the things we carry forward.
No longyis, an immediate jolt
And faces without thanaka
As I am shepherded through narrow immigration channels and across a characterless no-mans-land and across that arbitrary line where Thailand begins, rising like a wall
Invisible in the air
Another day ticks forward and the distance between us and Cambodia shrinks down a little more,
Not that I’m counting.
After all, rainy days are for taking stock of the things
Before the rain,
And the things we carry after the storm.