I'm wielding the camera from over Henry's shoulder, zooming in on Jesse's chubby cheeks and blissed-out smile, recording his blurpy chuckles. Who's the baby? Henry says again, and I can be heard, normal-voiced, issuing instructions […]
Who's the baby?
Let us focus on the preservice and postservice procedures you should always follow.
As we began our descent from the mountains, the image of Yi villages threaded together only by footpaths stayed in my mind. Not that they hadn’t been affected by the dispiteous anarchism of the Cultural Revolution, but they lived in relative isolation.
Maybe the guy was a frail masktard? Apparently too uncoordinated to walk backwards? Maybe tripped over his own shoelaces?
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