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A review by cherylcheng00
Tropic of Orange by Karen Tei Yamashita
4.0
The freeway was a great root system, an organic living entity. It was nothing more than a great writhing concrete dinosaur and nothing less than the greatest orchestra on Earth.
Like Buzzworm said, every watch has got a story. Everybody’s got a timepiece and a piece of time. Watch was an outward reflection of your personal time. Had nothing to do with being on time. Had to do with a sense of time. Sense of urgency. Sense of rhythm. Cadence. Sense of history. Like listening to oldies with Margarita. Time could heal, but it wouldn’t make wrongs go away. Time came back like a reminder. Time folded with memory. In a moment, everything could fold itself up, and time stand still.
“Will you wait for me on the other side?” she whispered as the line in the dust became again as wide as an entire culture and as deep as the social and economic construct that nobody knew how to change.
Like Buzzworm said, every watch has got a story. Everybody’s got a timepiece and a piece of time. Watch was an outward reflection of your personal time. Had nothing to do with being on time. Had to do with a sense of time. Sense of urgency. Sense of rhythm. Cadence. Sense of history. Like listening to oldies with Margarita. Time could heal, but it wouldn’t make wrongs go away. Time came back like a reminder. Time folded with memory. In a moment, everything could fold itself up, and time stand still.
“Will you wait for me on the other side?” she whispered as the line in the dust became again as wide as an entire culture and as deep as the social and economic construct that nobody knew how to change.