Down by the mekong delta
I like the river, especially at night. Everything burns in the day. Reminds me of that line from the Graham Greene novel “Your shirt is a rag. Bit at night, there is a gentle breeze.” The breeze carries the distant thump of a motorboat crossing the river. You can walk along the river bank. From time to time, you meet a group of young people. Some stop to say hello or chat a bit. You reach the junction where the street food vendors have set up the stall. It is like the whole universe was made, humans evolved and split into cultures, just so that on a night like this, you can overload your senses with sticky-rice-spicy-chicken and the lovely faces reflecting the glow of street food lights.