I ignored him until he throttled down. That was not normal.
It was a pleasant night, but an hour after curfew. City lights from Saigon to the east turned the dark a velvety purple, and the sweet
...
[+]
of wax, leather, eagle feathers, but of
paper, ribbon, glue and glitter. Her
daughter flaps her arms and
pretends to be bird, fairy,
angel. She keeps
dancing. Her
mother says,
"Stand still," as she
combs out plaits, strokes
hair into shape, clips on stars,
a halo, thinks of magic. She looks
at her daughter's sprung feet, says, "Fly,
sweetheart. Then walk, strong on the earth."