1.

The road to West Kabul was long, black and dotted with potholes that had been created by neglect and war. The sparse traffic made slow, looping swerves to avoid them.

The last thing on the West Kabul road was a destroyed palace. Full of holes and perched upon a small hill, Darulaman Palace looked injured and dying. Faint traces of former elegance bled through the destruction; the Corinthian columns had large chunks missing w... read more

Night had fallen in Lanzhou and I wanted a cigarette.

I decided to walk the city aimlessly until I found one. The

air was a freezing, sharp cold. The sky was blue and

milky.



I passed the window of a hair salon. Hands beckoned me

inside. It was a sudden flurry of movement from inside the

dark room, hands disconnected from bodies, waving

frantically. The door slid open and I saw a group of girls

sitting in a small, dark room with florescent pink lighting.

... read more

In the cosmic game of polo you are the ball

The mallet's left and right becomes your call

He who causes your movements, your rise and fall

He is the one, the only one, who knows it all .

-Omar Khayyam



I.

THE Gilgit polo grounds were located in between two mosques; one Shia, the other Sunni. The field was long and narrow, surrounded on both sides by tall concrete slabs. This is where spec... read more

[random section of larger work. nonfiction. takes place in obscure central asian republic of tajikistan]

-seven-

Yui and I had made plans to meet at ten o’clock in

Malohat’s apartment. I went to the bazaar café, to get

drunk. I always drank before I went out with a woman. It

was easier when I was drunk.


The bazaar was closed. The cafe stayed open longer than

the bazaar. Rowdy merchants from the bazaar would go

there, drinking ... read more