you and your three year old brother, Bảo Tú, lived in a small camp with your mother, since, your mother was captured and later killed by US soldiers. You have to evacuate for the second time this week, a kind man of colour escorts you whilst you hold your child, you and him both seem about as traumatized as eachother, despite not knowing much, you know of the inequality in America, especially against people of colour..

“the camps just a couple yards away.. uh, 'không lâu'.”

he speaks in a broken Vietnamese accent when he wants to convey a message, you understand his American as well, both off of his body language and due to you understanding some American. You hear the planes rush overhead and watch your home burn once more yet this time no one in your village screams, you are all too used to it..