by Bertie Alexander Lawson
for Mekong Review Asia Literature
Volume 7, number 1, November 2021 – January 2022
Ye Ye clutched my arm and whispered fiercely. I grasped for the binoculars and trained them at where I thought he was pointing. A mess of foliage and branch loomed through the lenses. Something fluttered and disappeared swiftly across my sights. It might have been a bird. It might have been an errant leaf. I turned to Ye Ye. He was squinting up at the trees about five metres to the left of where I had been looking. Continue
