Chester called me back. That’s the guy that works for Dan Lok. I told him my three things. I told him that I felt confident. Excited. Audacious.
We were monkey kings; street dogs running through familiar streets at full tilt, howling and bounding from one scent to the next.
I’ll never live abroad, he said. Twenty-two years old and passing through baggage checks at Heathrow as quickly as I’d accepted the job. The chess pieces wrapped in boxer shorts suddenly feel ridiculous. One half space-saving-piece-protecting-masterstroke, one half inconvenient-lunatic-blunder. I am on my way to Chongqing, China. The city’s name almost sounds racist. Teaching inContinue reading “Going Away to Get Lost”