Luang Prabang. A town shrouded in mist, like a forgotten memory. I stepped off the boat, onto worn wooden planks, and into the stillness. The Mekong River slid lazily by, a serpent of silver and brown.
Tuesday, August 20, 2024
If Ernest Hemingway visited Luang Prabang
Luang Prabang. A town shrouded in mist, like a forgotten memory. I stepped off the boat, onto worn wooden planks, and into the stillness. The Mekong River slid lazily by, a serpent of silver and brown.
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