The Golden Song
Act I By the time the ferry horn sounded, Văn Huong had already decided he would not survive the winter, though he did not know yet that the clock in the wrong tower had stopped at four o’clock, just as the sun was setting. He stood in the ferry cabin, the engine shudder rattling his teeth, watching the rain that had finished the first rain, leaving the old quarter of Hanoi slick and gray. His...
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