Trasvin continues talking but it’s impossible to hear what she’s saying. Her voice is drowned by the roar of aircraft as they thunder into the hazy sky above us. Chiang Mai’s runway is so close, it’s easy to imagine the plane’s wheels brushing the roof. She continues, oblivious to the racket. Moments later, the quiet of a hot morning seeps back into her offices where we are sitting. She is still talking as if nothing happened.
To read the rest of this article, and to access all Mekong Review content, please subscribe.
More from Mekong Review
-
A small space for book lovers in Hong Kong
-
Poetry from David Chandler
-
A poem by Aiden Heung