In Nha Trang I started to vomit.
I had taken far too many photos.
They had got into my gut.

There was nothing to do but lie low.
I went to ground on a beach-head
and tried digesting small portions of local colour.

Finally I had strength enough to continue.
At first, vision was restricted to familiar objects -
(toothbrushes are very reassuring).

I bought postcards of happy-go-lucky tribespeople cheerfully toothless in the face of poverty and discrimination.

The going rate for smiles is two American dollars.

We were much more careful with looking
from then on.