This is What We Know

Monday, September 1, 2014
Stephanie Wang

Rangoon creaks awake in the grey-blue hours before dawn. The heat softens into the compound like putty, melting into the cracks and corners with a sinewy torpor. It’s mercifully dry. There are perhaps three or four weeks before the wet descends once more, blanketing Myanmar in its oppressive skin like a birth sac over some newborn animal that lies damp and steaming beneath its cowl. 

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