Color me Hungry.

I Bumped into a tennant at the Apartment Block two days ago: I'd thought that it would be one of those casual " How ya doing?" kind of conversations however he is a Vietnam Vet and the smell and site of the burnt Apartment building has created flashbacks. Sounds like it has triggered PTSD , as to to whom it looks like a bombed site.
He appeared to be a very angry man.Angry at whom or what Idon't know & so sensitive of judgement. He'd been a prison guard and also interrogator in Vietnam and mentioned it was very much like Iraq. Referring to the prison scandel. " I had a job to do." he said-

It is painful to fathom all the shades of gray that paint the mural of war.


On our street in Greensburgh, New York: Cherry Lane it was named. The Cagneta's had a cousin called Patrick. P had just returned from Vietnam. walked with a limp and a cane. Never talked to any one and seemed to hide.
N, my brother, becoming more desperate for ways to make money for his drug habit had already begun to take bigger risks since but when Patrick had returned from Vietnam N had solicted him regarding sex with me. My big brother prostituted me for his drug money.


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A couple of years back.
I was passing by a breakfast line for a local resturant. One of those great family owned places.
Great Food etc. Waiting line all the way out on to the side walk.

I was passing in by and so was a homeless Vietnam Veteran.
& he stopped and looked at them for a second.
and Yelled, " YOU JUST DON'T SPEAK THE LANGUAGE MAN: YOU JUST DON'T KNOW THE LANGUAGE."

i have never forgotten that . His words have been written in stone somewhere deep in my memory.