Until then she had been blind, but when she saw those mountains, she slipped beneath the surface of the war and found the country.
Tatjana SoliLong ago she had become more ambitious than feeling. She had fallen in love with images instead of living things. Except for Linh.
Tatjana SoliSaigon was loved precisely because it was so unlovable - its squalor, its biblical, Job-like misfortune, its imminent, hoevering doom.
Tatjana SoliWhat was the point of living through history if you didn't record it?
Tatjana SoliMots clés history
Helen's Saigon had always been about selling - chickens, information, or lovely young women, it didn't matter. It had once been called the Pearl of the Orient, but by people who had not been there in a very long time. Saigon had never been Paris, but now it was a garrison town, unlovely, a stinking refugee shantyville filled with the angry, the betrayed, the dispossessed, but she had made it her home, and she couldn't bear that soon she would have to leave.
Tatjana SoliMots clés home
It had always fascinated her - what happens when things break down, what are the basic units of life?
Tatjana SoliBut now she did belong to the ravaged city - her frame grown gaunt, her shoulders hunched from tiredness, the bone-sharp jaw line that had lost the padded baby fat of pretty, her blue gaze dark and inward.
Tatjana SoliWhy did someone fall in love with you because you are one thing and then want you to be something else?
Tatjana SoliMots clés love
We are a people used to grief. Expecting it even.
Tatjana SoliSaigon in utter darkness this last night of the war. A gestating monster. Her letter to Linh had been simple: I love you more than life, but I had to see the end.
Tatjana SoliMots clés war
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