Sunday, November 18, 2012

Shym jok bala


“The kid doesn’t like pants. I don’t blame him, but I also don’t want him jumping on my bed.” He wondered how he could gently translate this into Kyrgyz. It would be good language practice. He would also prevent the contamination of his bed sheets. “BAS!” His two year-old brother clutching to a pen and two of his fingers squeezed and let the full weight of his body pull him back and towards the playroom. He drew pictures of horses and donkeys and camels and mice and wolves and people – and they all looked the same, with a body, two eyes and some legs – which, he had to concede; they all did have in common. The pantsless boy drew them on a magna-doodle, laughing at each one before a quick swipe drained their print from the magic screen.

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