They emerged from the limousine after another tense two-hour drive, still a bit bleary-eyed despite the coffees they had forced down when they met at the British Consulate at 4 a.m.  There were only five of them this time, Lady Fanshaw and Mr. Zinowsky being unable to make it.           Coats and gloves were necessary.  Early mornings in the Gobi are cold even in August.  Peggy was glad she wore fur-lined boots over heavy socks.  They poked around the perimeter of the exhibit

November 26 ​         Today would be Thanksgiving Day in the United States but of course it was no special day here.  In town I was able to make out a poster announcing a town meeting tonight and I decided to go. ​         There was a town council of five older people and they were hearing public comment on what sounded like -- a “tourist pier”?  A man in a suit, evidently an outsider, explained the project and took questions.  My sense was that the townspeople would be happy

Venus ventures into the yard, despite the danger of poop on slippers, and walks over to Momma.  Hugging herself in her bathrobe, she watches as corn is spread.               “Look at Hazel,” she says.               “Yes, it’s bad.”  Hazel is their name for the lowest hen in the pecking order.  As usual, her feathers are half picked off.               “Why is Simon [the rooster] so mean?”               “It’s not Simon.  What does he have to complain about?  He’s got ten hens h

“Yes . . . exactly.”  Brigid watched as the old station wagon turned onto Martin Luther King Boulevard.  Now she looked at the box of toothpicks.  “Thank you much, Rod.”  She opened the box and fumbled to get a toothpick out.  Rod noticed that her fingers were stiff and red.  He glanced down and noticed that her toes were red too.  In fact her body was flushed all over.  White people, you could tell so much about them from their skin.  Brigid tried to hide it but she was feel

Ms. Ling was, of course, a product of the Hsa cold hand, but she took her role as Mailgirls supervisor seriously.  From snatches of various conversations they already knew her father was a Tienanmen Square protestor who had been imprisoned; she was aware of the ill effects of enforced boredom.  That was their explanation for her appearance one day with a large bin of books.  The books had been lying around in various offices and perhaps were no longer needed, or so smoky smel

June 19               As she vacuums the living room carpet, pumps on both breasts, she feels flushed and dizzy.  She stops and lays back on the stuffed chair.  She turns off the pumps and takes deep breaths.  She is well aware of what almost just happened and thinks that maybe pumping both breasts, with the carpet fondling her feet, is not a good idea.  She closes her eyes and says a short prayer.