Page 4 - My FlipBook

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Air.
I’m pondering it.
Just random thoughts, like how you’re barely aware of it

when it’s flowing smoothly in and out of your lungs. Or how,
if you fall into it, it can’t catch you. How it only seems weight-
less. How you can’t tie it into knots.
I stole the last one from Buddha, who made me think
about air in the first place.
Or I should say Buddhas, because everywhere I look I
see his round face. It’s on the jewelry, pillows, tapestries,
paper umbrellas and paintings in Chiang Mai’s crowded
night market, where I inch along with my invincible

mother. Whenever we accidentally bump someone, we wai.
That means we put our hands together, fingers pointing up,
and bow our heads. Everyone here does it. It’s a traditional
Thai thing that means “hello,” “goodbye,” “I’m sorry,” “nice to
meet you” and probably a lot more.

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