Dog

When I was in Siem Reap last year, I crossed paths with a desperate, forlorn mongrel with half his bowels hanging out of his anus. I choose to cock my head, let out a little lament and walk by. I chose to bite my teeth and turn a blind eye because I was told I could do nothing, that it was just a statistic.

Not one month goes by without fleeting passing memories of the mongrel.
Not one month goes by without regret.

Today was exceptionally bad when I walked in the wind with Jonsi for company.

I am sorry, dog.