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September 6, 2007
I didn’t understand a word he said. He was tall as my shoulder and hunched with his face wrinkled and sunken so he looked like a mummy, like one of those NOVA specials on pre-Vikings trapped in peat moss bogs and preserved, dehydrated and furrowed like an apple-head doll. “I’m sorry,” I said, dropping my hand. The man laughed, his head tossed back and I could see him young and teasing on a sunny day somewhere far away from this warehouse Buddhist temple. “Take,” he said, “take.” I held up two fingers and he nodded, “Sure, sure.” “OrReGahTo,” I said.