Two Stops Past Siberia

And what about the pool hall, dark and smoky with electronic poker machines and girlfriends wishing the games were over already – but also the oil paintings of horses and mountains by yurts on the dingy walls. Our table featured a wrinkled old man, blind in one eye, unsympathetic to my foreignness, shaking his head disappointed every time I missed a shot.

The funny part about my life outside America lies in the fact that I’ve been writing these letters as long as I’ve been leaving, 5 years now. Sometimes, it seems, I experience things from the perspective of a letter. After the billiards I watched you folks watch me, dancing my silly dances, with my four new coworkers, basking in laser lights and synthetic fog, us five alone on the dance floor, curiously alone in the whole 2^nd floor hall. A sixth dancer, all the while, a new letter, danced around the empty pages of my mind, watching this most unlikely of situations unfold, growing slowly in fertile soil of old letters and past travels.

In the safe house of my head-space, new letters take their time. I nurture them carefully, because I know that while you folks always respond well, you attention is something I value, and I never want to compromise it with bad work.

The real thing of it is folks, I do not see you sitting at your desks, at work in the morning, with a mug of coffee, or with print-outs at the dinner table, reading them to you children over a salad and leg of lamb. Instead I see you with me, smiling at the pure humanity in this one eyed, drunk grandpa, who won’t cut me any slack when I miss, yet keeps pointing out new shots for me every time I’m up again. I chuckle with you as you watch me try to learn Kyrgyz dance steps, then we imagine together how they’ll inevitably be received when I replicate them in the States.

In my mind, we are all here together, and the only method I have to bring you there is through these words.

So please, come and join me. You can just stop by the website for a visit, or shoot me and email at KyrgyCarl@gmail.com, and I’ll add you to the list, so you can get the genuine article right there in your mailboxes. In all honesty, these letters are a labor of love, and I enjoy having you all along for the ride.