-- She'd break out the jug, her homemade gin – 'thimble-full won't hurt' – set two shot glasses on the counter and fill them to the brim, 'neat.' He'd raise his glass to her, 'Prost.' 'Prost,' she'd say...

After the genocide. The environment is heavy with the memory of conflict, rank with the spoils of aid and corruption, infused with exploitation, violence, impunity. Dhamma, the triptych.-- When the girl...

'But the folk turned their ear to a different sound, that did not lift but shook them, took them down, led them to imagine the unimaginable, to conceive the inconceivable, commit the impossible. The folk...